It's A Gift
by Karumeru
Summary: All his life, Sanji has tried to live as normally as he could. Which is never an easy task for a Seer. But when his abilities attract the spirit of a vengeful swordsman, Sanji has no choice but to uncover the circumstances of Zoro's accident in order to rid himself of the monstrous apparition that violently haunts him. ( Happy Halloween! :P )
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I wanted to write something for Halloween. So have… this… Whatever this is. I hope you guys like it :)

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><p>The sharp stench of blood pierced the air. Sanji's eyes flickered open, focusing on a plain white ceiling through the darkness. Something cold and wet slicked between the sheets. Sanji willed his arms to move, but they wouldn't budge.<p>

_Great. Fucking sleep paralysis._

He closed his eyes, forced his consciousness back to sleep. But the damp seeped through to his clothes and clung to his skin. It was as though he was submerged in thick, shallow water. Sanji wrinkled his nose as the smell grew stronger, and his eyes flickered open again. The muscles of his neck loosened, and he looked down.

Red stained the white bed sheets. The blood spread further and further, consuming white cotton with crimson. Sanji wanted to yell, but his voice clogged in his throat. Air forced itself harshly through his nose. He could feel the thick liquid between his fingers.

_C'mon c'mon get up get up_.

Sanji begged his limbs to move, but only manages to tilt his head further. Now the room was in his line of sight. Sanji startled, eyes widened as they lay upon the sight of a man stood at the end of his bed. Tanned skin, green hair. Long cuts and gashes covered his body, each one pooled out blood and lumps of flesh. The constant stream of red painted his skin. The man's dark, hollow eyes met Sanji's. Fear triggered movement in Sanji's muscles.

But now the blonde was being held down by something else. He squirmed against it, whimpering and grunting. All the while the bloodied man stood there, and stared. Then the crimson dripped from his bed, to the floor and spread like a lake until blood carpeted the room and the stench became intolerable.

Sanji yelled, screamed, kicked against the invisible weight that kept him pinned to the bed, as the white walls slowly disappeared into the crimson pool.

"What do you want?" shouted Sanji, panic forced tears to well in his eyes. "What the fuck do you want?"

Nothing. Nothing but those soulless eyes engulfing Sanji, just as blood engulfed the room

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><p>"Sanji! Sanji!"<p>

The blonde jerked awake, gasping for breath. He found himself sprawled on the floor of the hospital room, still partly tangled in bed sheets. Delicate fingers dug into his shaking shoulders, and Sanji looked up to a beautiful face, framed by bright auburn hair.

"Sanji, what the fuck?" muttered Nami. Worry etched a frown deep into her soft features.

Sanji breathed out harshly and pulled himself away from her grasp, grabbing the edge of the bed to lift himself up from the floor. His legs wobbled under him, so he leaned on the bed with one arm, while fumbled around the bedside table for his lighter and pack of smokes with the other.

Nami sighed and slumped back on her knees, glancing away in thought. She saw him. Of course she saw him. But that was one of the reasons why Nami was allowed to see him and no one else. She wouldn't bring it up, especially not so soon after another episode.

Hands finally gripping around his lighter and cigarettes, Sanji shoved both into his pockets and stumbled towards the open doorway.

"I need a smoke," he muttered.

"Chopper's gonna give you hell for it," Nami called after him, but he was too far gone down the corridor to reply.

He hated leaving her and ignoring her like that, but he desperately needed to smoke away the nightmares still fresh in his waking head.

Sanji thanked the cool night air that kissed the sweat clinging to his skin as he exited the hospital and hobbled over to the smoker's corner. His fingers trembled as he struggled to light up. But as the arid smoke hit his lungs, he breathed it all out and evened out his nerves.

He closed his eyes, listening the distant chatter of doctors and patients coming from the open windows above, and the crack of the road under ambulance tires as they rolled in and out of the hospital. But the peace was disrupted as the image of the bloodied man flickered in his head.

Sanji grimaced, the smell of blood still lingering in his nostrils. His stomach churned and he fought down the nausea with another long drag of smoke. Turning, he caught his reflection on the glass surface of a window. His face looked as bad as he felt, with his left eye swollen over and almost shut, and a lovely purple bruise that blotched his pale skin. Where his shirt buttons had popped off, Sanji saw the edges of a bandage wrap around his chest. It itched against his skin.

He sighed, wondering if he should feel better or worse for coming out of a fight the way he had. On one hand, he didn't break any of his limbs and it felt like all his teeth were still in tact. On the other, was a wrecked face and a stab wound to the gut worth protecting his lovely ladies for?

Sanji chuckled. Of course it was. The moment anything bad looked like it was going to happen to the girls, Sanji was prepared to lay his life down for them. Except he wouldn't just go out without a bang, as the thugs that jumped them promptly found out. Sanji wasn't normally one to brag, but he would have been lying if he didn't admit to feeling proud and a little badass at taking down the lot of them with a knife hanging out of his gut.

But it did mean he was back here again. The hospital. The last place he ever wanted be. It was the place where he _saw_ the most. Where so many people's lives hung in such a delicate balance, like walking on a tightrope, and where countless others have lost theirs but refuse to leave this plane of existence just yet.

Sanji shuddered as the bloodied man came back to his mind. That would explain such a vivid nightmare. Some people just weren't content with leaving this world without having their presence known. Like leaving a room and slamming the door behind you to get attention, the man in his nightmares probably just wanted to do the as similar thing. And spectres could only do that to people who could see.

Stubbing out his spent cigarette, Sanji lit up a new one, drowning his churning gut and frayed nerves in nicotine. He hated it. His mother had told him it was a gift, before she'd joined the others that haunted him. He may have accepted it too, if it didn't stunt his living of life itself so much. Not many people could say they still saw the spectre of their long dead mother out of the corner of their eyes, passing doorways and disappearing down corridors. Least of all, people who said they could see and remained sane. Yes, he hated it. But there was little he could do about it, and that was the worst part.

The familiar clack of heels caught his attention, and Sanji looked up to see Robin, in all her tall and slender beauty and grace, striding towards him.

"Miss Robin," he greeted her with a smile, which she returned.

"Nami told me you'd woken up."

Sanji groaned. "It's so late. The two of you shouldn't have stayed here just for me."

Robin shook her head. "We sent Usopp and Luffy to make sure Kaya and Vivi got home alright. Nami insisted on staying, and I didn't feel right leaving her alone here."

Sanji grinned. "Ah, what would I do without my lovely ladies? You're both as caring and kind-hearted as ever."

"Well, I can't speak for Nami. I'm sure she's expecting some form of compensation for this," said Robin, her smile turning into a wolfish grin. "But I certainly am caring, and because of that, I'll have to do this."

She reached over and plucked the cigarette from between the blonde's fingers, dropping it on the floor and stubbing it out. Sanji let out a disappointed groan as he watched the cherry turn to ash under her high-heels.

"I also came here to tell you to head back inside," added Robin. "Chopper has been running around the ward in distress looking for you."

Sanji nodded, and pushed himself off the railing he was leaning on. "Don't tell him I smoked, please."

"I won't have to. You know our little doctor has the nose of a bloodhound. He'll find out either way."

Sanji nodded glumly and allowed the fair Robin to escort him back to the room he'd escaped from. All the way there, he kept his eyes to the floor, watching his leather shoes tapping against the white tiles. It didn't help, of course, because he could still sense them there. The spectres, lost and amiably floating around as they clung to this world. But sensing them was never as bad as actually catching a glimpse of those lost and hollow eyes.

"Sanji!" Chopper's screech startled him. "Where the hell have you been?"

He gave the little doctor a sheepish smile. "Sorry, uh, just had to step out for a bit."

"After I just patched up your stab wound?" He wailed. "What if you pulled your stitches? And…"

His voice trailed off and he moved closer to Sanji, sniffing.

"Were you smoking?"

Sanji grimaced and glanced at Robin, who only shook her head. There was no saving him from this.

"Hey, force of habit," he shrugged, shuffling on his feet under his friend's scrutinising glare.

Chopper huffed and folded his arms. Granted, he was a couple of years younger than Sanji, a trainee doctor and dwarfed under his white coat, looked even more child-like than usual, but when it came to his patients, Chopper matured and got stricter than any adult Sanji had ever known.

"Alright, no more smoke breaks for you," said Chopper. "And you should really be in bed. I know it wasn't a big wound, but pulling the stitches are still troublesome."

"Hey, I'm fine now, right?" Sanji pleaded. "Can't I just go home?"

"No!" Chopper screeched.

Sanji flinched and he heard Robin giggle beside him.

"You're staying here overnight, and we're inspecting your wounds in the morning," added the doctor. "Then, maybe you can go home."

Sanji sighed and grudgingly followed Chopper back to the room. The blonde turned to Robin walking beside him.

"Ah, you don't have to stay, Miss Robin," the blonde cooed. "Although I'd be very happy if you did."

"I'll just make sure you're alright, then I'll take Nami home. Though I think she would rather stay here until you're better. I think she feels she owes you for protecting us."

"It was just my rightful duty, my dear…" Sanji trailed off, stopping as something caught his eye.

"Still, I can think of better outcomes to tonight that what we went through. Sanji?"

He could hear Robin's voice, but he'd long stopped listening. He paused, frozen in the corridor, eyes widened and a tremble started in his muscles. Something rang in his ears, like the jangling of wind chimes, and the warmth drained out of his body as Sanji stared through a window into another room. Lying on a bed, still as a stone and wired to machines was another young man about his age. Tanned skin. Green Hair.

"Sanji?"

He felt Robin's hand on his arm, before his mind descended into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Sanji stood at the end of the bed with an unlit cigarette bit between his teeth, glancing down at the green-haired guy slumbering away. His chest barely moved, and if you weren't looking, you could swear he was dead. But he was alive, or barely, as the steady and constant beeping of the life-support machine beside him showed.

Sanji reached for the clipboard hanging off the edge of the bed. He really shouldn't be snooping around like this. But after waking up, all Sanji could think about was the bloodied man in his dream and this guy. The two were obviously the same person.

He was just glad he'd woken up alone. Hopefully the girls had gone home, he didn't know how he could face them after displaying such a pathetic show as passing out in the corridor for no apparent reason. Chopper must have been busy seeing to other patients. That gave him the freedom to wander around and investigate.

Sanji flicked through the pages of the clipboard on the bed.

_Zoro Roronoa._

What a mouthful. Here Sanji thought _he_ had a name that was hard to pronounce. He read on.

_Comatose._

_Date of admition: 15__th__ of August, 2010_

Sanji stiffened as a shiver ran up his spine. He stared at the date. This was more than a year ago! This guy had been in a coma for that long… It was like something that only happened in movies. Sanji tried to imagine what that must feel like; to be asleep for so lon and wake up to a completely new world.

He would've missed a year of high school for one thing, and that was a lot of homework and exams to catch up on. He would've missed the elections, not that he was old enough to vote yet. Shit, even the phone that he had in his pocket didn't exist last year!

Then he would've missed key things that happened in his own life. The Baratie getting renovated after business boomed, Usopp and Kaya getting together, Robin getting that scholarship for a university overseas.

Sanji glanced back at Zoro. What things had he been missing out on in his own life? His chest welled with pity, as he turned back to the clipboard and tried to find out more details. The click of the door had him fumbling the clipboard back in it's slot, pulling the cigarette from his lips and shoving his hands in his pockets.

He tried to look as calm and composed as possible, as tired-looking man entered the room. He had pale skin, black hair that was slicked back and a pair of perfectly round glasses perched on the end of his nose. The man stared at Sanji with a look of surprise, but cleared his throat as he shut the door behind him.

"I'm sorry," said the man in a soft voice. "I didn't realize Zoro had other visitors."

Sanji shook his head and said nothing. Best lie he could come up with so far. The man smiled, fixing his glasses with the base of his palm before turning to Zoro.

"Good morning, Zoro-kun," he continued, and Sanji noticed the slight change in his accent. "It's me again, Koshiro-sensei. I told you I'd be back to visit soon, didn't I?"

Silence. Sanji swallowed, trying his best not to fidget at the sad awkwardness of this man talking to an unresponsive husk. He stood by and watched as Koshiro settled his bag down and shook off his coat.

"I have so many things to tell you, but your friend is here to visit too. Er… Sorry, what was your name again?"

"Um, Sanji."

Koshiro smiled again, but there was something broken in his expression that caused a sympathetic ache in the blonde's chest. Placing his things neatly in the arm chair beside the bed, Koshiro moved closer to Sanji and talked in an even quieter tone.

"Sorry if it seems strange," he explained. "The doctors said it's good to talk to Zoro. We should always introduce ourselves when we enter, and speak to him as normal. They said he may be unresponsive, but he's always listening."

"Oh," was all Sanji could manage to say. Inside, he kicked himself for sneaking into the room of a comatose patient without announcing his presence and began speaking without introduction. He wondered if such actions made an impact on the coma and hoped he hadn't made it worse.

"You must forgive me," said Koshiro. "I didn't know Zoro had friends in this area."

"Well…" Sanji wracked his brain for an answer. "He probably doesn't talk about me much. We're not really… I mean, I know him- er, we know each other… But he's more of a pain in the ass than anything."

Sanji's jaw snapped shut and he glanced up anxiously at the elder man. Great. Trust his mouth to just run off on him like that. Thankfully, Koshiro only laughed in response.

"That sounds like Zoro," he said. "He won't act like it, but he's fiercely loyal to anyone he considers friends."

Sanji eased at that, but as his muscles relaxed, an ache for this broken family swelled in the pit of his stomach. He glanced back at Zoro. In his head, Sanji already knew he wasn't going to make it. He wouldn't see spectres in his dreams for no reason, and last time he checked, Sanji only saw the spectres of those who were no longer living. It was all entirely possible that Zoro had already passed. It stabbed at Sanji to know this fact and not be able to tell this poor old man who still spoke to the boy as if he were alive.

"Are you…" Sanji began. "I'm sorry, we haven't really talked much. I don't know any of his family. Are you his dad?"

Koshiro gave a short laugh, it was gentle but sounded forced.

"No, no. But I might as well be. I've looked after Zoro since he was a little boy. I… never knew who his real parents were, and if Zoro ever did know, he never told anyone about them. I'd like to think he'd come to know me as his father."

Sanji nodded. This Zoro guy was sounding more and more like a jackass. But still, he felt relieved that there was someone who cared for the guy even after a whole year of sleep.

Koshiro turned to unzip the bag on the chair.

"I just got back from Japan last night," said Koshiro. "I've been away for some time, so I'm happy to know that there have been other people visiting Zoro while I was away. I was worried he'd gotten lonely."

Sanji allowed a wince to pull on his face while Koshiro's back was turned. He wondered if this was truly the first time Zoro had a visitor, and felt guilty for lying to the man. But fuck all if he was going to tell the truth now.

"Look, Zoro-kun," said Koshiro, beaming at the unresponsive boy. He pulled out a CD case from his bag and waved it in the air. Sanji caught the detail of cherry blossoms on the cover. "I brought some Enka music back for you. You always loved listening to these."

Koshiro crossed the room to the CD player on the other end, and slotted the disk in. A steady drumbeat started, accompanied by strings and flutes in a sad melody, before being joined by a mournful voice singing in a language Sanji didn't understand.

The sound distorted. A sharp pain split into Sanji's head. He staggered backwards agains the wall, pressing a hand to his temple. He screwed his eyes shut, as a high-pitched ringing droned in his ears. When he opened his eyes again, his breath snagged in his throat.

The bloodied man stood beside Zoro's bed, staring at Sanji with his dark, soulless eyes. The room filled with the sharp scent of blood. Through all the ringing, he could hear the thick, crimson liquid dripping from the man's body. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Koshiro's frowning face appeared before him.

"Sanji-kun? Are you alright?" he asked, his soft voice full of concern. Sanji's eyes flickered frantically between him and the bloodied man behind him. He hated these moments the most. When he was caught between the presence of the living and the dead. He was there. He was _right there_. _Can't you see him?_

The elder man spoke again, but his words were drowned out by the distorted music. The ringing continued in Sanji's ears, along with that consistent drip, drip, drip. Sanji could feel himself sway, and his stomach threatened to come up and out through his mouth as the scent of blood grew stronger.

"E-excuse me," muttered Sanji, hearing the shake in his own voice. He willed his legs to move, staggering out of the room and down the corridor, out of view from the window.

He supported himself against the wall, the cold cement pressed against his skin grounded him. Breathing harshly, the ringing faded to a quiet did. But the headache and the nausea remained. Feeling the heated gaze of others around him, Sanji hobbled to his room, where the nausea finally won and he just about made it to the bathroom in time. He wretched everything out, knowing that he'd feel better for it afterwards. As he flushed and began to clean himself up, the door to his room burst open.

Choppper strode to the doorway, eyes-widening as he gawked at Sanji.

"Did you just throw up?"

Sanji tried to think of other ways he could answer this question. But all he could do was nod glumly.

"Sanji!" Chopper screeched. "I told you to stay in bed! Why were you wandering around again? Are you sick? Maybe your wound got infected."

"I'm fine," Sanji lied. He still felt a little light-headed and didn't trust himself to push off the edge of the sink he was leaning on.

Chopper's small hand wrapped around his arm, gentle and comforting.

"You don't look it."

Sanji let the young doctor lead him back to his bed, cursing himself internally. He didn't want to look like he was getting worse. If anything, he wanted to leave the hospital there and then. But as his body hit the mattress, and all the energy drained out of him, Sanji knew there was no getting out of there soon.

"Lift your shirt," instructed Chopper. "Let me see your stitches."

Deciding that cooperating would make the process faster than fighting it, Sanji obeyed Chopper without complaints. He tried to think of other things besides the bloodied man and the prospect of being stuck at the hospital for longer than he intended, as the doctor pushed and prodded at his wound.

"Can I take a blood sample?" asked Chopper. "Your wound looks fine but I wanna make sure you are too."

"Fine," answered Sanji. He could feel the energy draining out of him.

Chopper's brown eyes glistened with concern. "I need to got get some needles. You won't wander about again, will you? You really need to rest."

Sanji forced a smile and ruffled the dark curls on Chopper's head.

"I won't. I feel like I need a lie down anyway."

The young doctor still looked doubtful, but he nodded and left Sanji alone. With a sigh, Sanji slumped back in the bed and soon fell into the hands of sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The blood test would take three hours to churn out results. Sanji gnawed away at the end of an unlit cigarette, resigning himself to stay in bed. He decided that the less he wandered around, the less he would see. That was best. But now, boredom started a restless itch in his limbs, and his mind kept casting back to Zoro and his guardian, Koshiro, still hopeful of his recovery.

His door clicked open and Sanji all but leapt out of his bed with joy when Nami graced the room with her radiant presence.

"Nami!" he exclaimed, almost spitting out the cigarette. He made to push himself up on the bed, but she held up a hand.

"It's fine, don't get up," she said with a laugh. "Sorry I left you earlier. I just wanted to shower and get changed, but I ended up falling asleep on the couch for a few hours."

Sanji shook his head. "You don't have to worry about me. But I'm flattered Miss Nami cares about me."

She rolled her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, now that you're here."

Nami gave a doubtful hum, pulling up a chair beside the bed. "Chopper told me you got sick."

"Ah, that. It's nothing. I really do feel better now."

"Nothing?"

Sanji met her eyes. The glinting brown clearly implying that she had an inkling of what Sanji was going through. But it was never something he could talk about openly to others. Not even with Nami.

She sighed, sensing his reluctance to talk and leaned back on the chair.

"You really hate hospitals, don't you?"

_You know why_, thought Sanji. But he chuckled and decided to change the topic.

"How is everyone? Did they get home okay?"

"Yeah, all probably still sleeping off the hangover and the trauma," answered Nami with a nod. "Thanks again for what you did."

Sanji held a hand to his heart. "It was my solemn duty. Whatever trouble may become of my lovely girls, I will always be there."

"Alright, but next time, try not get so beat up."

She sat forward, her feet tapping on the floor. "So, when did Chopper say you could get discharged?"

Sanji shrugged. "It all depends on the blood tests. I hope it's soon."

She nodded, her delicate fingers fiddling with the edge of her jumper. After a moment, she stood up and clapped her hands together.

"I'll go find him and ask. Bet your itching to get out of here, right?"

Sanji frowned as he watched her leave the room. What was she so fidgety about?

Nami was gone for a good fifteen minutes. Sanji used that time to slowly recover his motor skills, sliding himself out of bed and stretching out gently and carefully so as not to pull his stitches. Back in his bathroom, he splashed water on his face and inspected himself in the mirror.

The dark bruise was still there, but his face was a lot less swollen now. Drying himself off, he was about to climb back into bed, when Nami burst into the room with a thin pile of papers in her hand.

"Tests are fine!" She declared, waving the papers in the air. "And Chopper says you can go."

Sanji felt a weight lift from his shoulders. "Really?"

"Uh-huh!" Nami nodded. "You could even walk out right now."

Sanji frowned. "Doesn't Chopper have to sign me out or something?"

"He said he would, but he's a bit caught up with other patients at the minute, and seeing as you're perfectly fine, he said you're good to go."

It didn't seem likely, but like hell Sanji was going stick around anymore. With a smile on his face, he grabbed his jacket and followed Nami out of the room.

"Alright, let's go."

They were halfway down the hallway when Sanji stopped again, glancing into Zoro's room. Koshiro was still there, sat beside his bed with an open book in his lap. He was talking to Zoro, but Sanji couldn't hear his words through the glass. The elder man caught Sanji out of the corner of his eyes and turned to wave at the blonde.

"Sanji?" Nami called from the end of the hallway.

"Uh, just give me a minute!"

Sanji entered the room. After causing such a fuss, he didn't want to just leave the man without a proper goodbye and easing his mind. The CD player was turned off, to his relief, and the room was quiet again save for the beeping of the life support machine.

"Ah, Sanji-kun," Koshiro greeted him. "You were gone for some time. Are you alright?"

Sanji nodded. "Yeah, sorry about that. I was actually getting treated here, but they've discharged me now."

"Ah. You've come to say goodbye to Zoro?"

"Er…" Sanji glanced down at the green-haired guy on the bed. "Sort of. Well, not really. Uh. We don't really, uh…"

Koshiro smiled. "It's fine. I understand. But you're welcome to come visit any time you like. I'll be here."

Sanji nodded. "Y-yeah. Thanks. Um…"

Koshiro looked up at him, waiting for the rest of his sentence. But Sanji couldn't bring any of the words he wanted to say to his mouth. _There's no point. He's trying to leave the world but you're keeping him here. It hurts but you need to let go and move on._

Nothing. Who could say that to someone with a dying loved one? Much less someone Sanji didn't know anything about? He shook his head and forced a smile on his face.

"I -it's nothing."

Koshiro's face softened. "Is this the first you've heard of Zoro's condition?"

Sanji decided to go with the flow and nodded.

"Don't worry, Sanji-kun. Zoro is strong. He'll pull through this one, you'll see."

Sanji bit his lip. How many times had Koshiro said those words to himself? He opened his mouth again, wanting to say something to ease the man's conscience, but Koshiro spoke again.

"Oh, don't let us keep you," he said. Sanji followed his line of sight to see Nami watching them from behind the window. He'd better go.

"Alright. Take care," he muttered and left the room to join Nami in the corridor.

"Who's that?" asked Nami, as soon as the door closed behind Sanji.

But the blonde only shook his head and strode off down the corridor. Nami didn't say anything else after that until they left the hospital building and Sanji breathed out in relief.

"So, what was that all about?" she queried again, as they walked to the car park.

Sanji sighed, the hitch in his breath begging for a cigarette. He stalled for time, fumbling in his pockets for a stick and his lighter, as his friend watched him and waited patiently for an answer. He lit up, took in smoke in a long, deep breath before letting it all out along with the tension in his shoulders.

He supposed there was no harm in telling Nami. Another bonus of having her around is that she actually believed him when he spoke of seeing spectres. That was rare. Whether or not she was just humouring him, Sanji didn't know. But it helped, somewhat.

"Did you see the guy in that room? The one in the bed?"

Nami nodded. "You know him?"

"No," he paused for another drag, watching a confused frown pull at Nami's delicate face. "I've been having nightmares ever since I got to the hospital. He's in them. Well, except it's not really him, I guess."

He stopped when he saw the frown on Nami's face slowly curl into a smile.

"This isn't the type of dream where he flies in through your window, is it?" She chided, slapping Sanji's arm playfully.

He said nothing and she quickly dropped the joke.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist."

"I think I'd rather have those dreams, to be honest," said Sanji, rubbing at his temples as the image of bloodied man invaded his mind again. "The ones I keep having are horrible. It's him. It looks exactly like him, but… He's all cut up, and covered in blood. And god, his eyes… Fuck."

Sanji shook his head as the memory became too vivid and hastened to finish his cigarette. Nami placed a sympathetic hand on his arm. It was comforting, if only a little patronising. Sanji was grateful for the sympathy, of course, especially from his treasured Miss Nami. But sympathy can only go so far. There was nothing they could do to help.

"But… I don't understand," said Nami. "I thought you could only see, er, you know, the one's who've… gone. This guy's still alive, isn't he?"

"I don't understand it myself, either. But I'm just glad to be out of there."

Stubbing out his cigarette, Sanji made to leave. But Nami held on to his arm.

"Wait, why don't I give you a ride home?"

"Ah, thank you, but you don't have to. I can get home fine."

"You're probably aching from your fight still, right? It'll be easier and quicker if I took you home."

She shoved a white, rounded helmet at his chest, implying that he had no other choice. Sanji smiled.

"Ah, my lovely, Nami! You're so gracious to present me with such an opportunity! I'd love to share a love bike ride with you!"

Nami wafted a hand in the air, as she led them to her scooter parked in a wide gap between two cars.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she said. "But call my Waver a 'love bike' again and I'll push you off it. Also, if your hands wander anywhere inappropriate, I might make a sudden turn and 'accidentally' knock you off the bike while we're going at forty, alright?"

She winked, smiling sweetly, before clasping her own blue helmet on and mounting her scooter, rolling it out of the narrow space. Sanji laughed nervously, getting on and deciding that two hands clasped lightly on her hips were enough to keep him balanced instead of the noodley embrace he had planed earlier. He knew Nami's threats were anything but empty.


	4. Chapter 4

Asphalt cracked under rubber tires as Nami pulled up by the alleyway behind the Baratie and killed the engine. Judging by the amount of people Sanji could glimpse going to and coming from around the corner, it looked like business as usual for the family restaurant.

Sighing, Sanji dismounted Nami's Waver and unclasped his helmet. He hoped nobody noticed that he was gone practically all night, and even if they did, he hoped they merely chalked it up to him staying over at someone's house rather than getting into trouble.

He turned to Nami and beamed at her. "Thanks for the lift, my lovely mellorine."

Nami shrugged. "Let's call it even for nearly getting yourself killed protecting us last night."

"Ah, that was a deed that did not need repaying, my dear Nami-swan," said Sanji, taking a flourishing bow.

She rolled her eyes at his antics, before her face dropped a serious expression.

"Listen, Sanji. There was another reason I picked you up from the hospital…"

Sanji frowned. He didn't like where this was going.

"Your dad somehow managed to find out what happened last night…"

"You're kidding."

Nami shook her head. "Usopp texted me, saying Carne texted him saying that your dad was pretty furious and was just leaving for the hospital just this morning. I though you might have wanted to avoid the confrontation at a public space."

Sanji sighed again, reaching in his pockets for a fresh cigarette. His pack was already running low.

"Thanks, at least I dodged that bullet," he said. "But the old fart's more like a heat-seeking missile. I bet he'll still chase me up about it."

"Want me to stick around?"

Sanji shook his head. "It's fine. The old man'll get to me one way or another. Besides, you've already done so much for me, my sweet flower!"

Nami laughed, waving away his affections and starting up her scooter again.

"Whatever. Just take it easy, okay? I'll text you later."

Sanji waited by the pavement until her sparkling, white and blue Waver disappeared around the corner. Lighting up, he spent a few extra minutes outside to smoke alone. Was his old man still at the hospital? Was he rampaging through the streets looking for him now? Or was he back at the restaurant, hacking away at vegetables, biding his anger until Sanji walked in?

_Only one way to find out._

Stubbing out his cigarette, Sanji entered the restaurant through the back entrance they used for deliveries.

"Sanji?" Carne greeted him in the kitchen, yelling over the busy din of the breakfast rush. "Where's Chef Zeff?"

Sanji gave the kitchen a once over. No sign of Patty either, maybe he gave the old man a ride.

"I came back alone," he answered, walking over to the changing rooms and pulling out his uniform.

"Woah woah wait, you're working now?"

Sanji only nodded, and continued to get changed.

Carne snickered. "We heard you got beat up pretty bad. Loose a fight?"

"Fuck off."

"Listen, you don't have to work today if you're beat. You know Chef Zeff wouldn't let you do that anyway."

"How many chefs have you got in the kitchen?"

"What? Don't try to change the subject."

"How many?"

Carne frowned. "There's four of us. Simeon and Falks are due in at one."

"Have you packed up breakfast?"

"We're just in the middle of doing it."

"Lunch prep?"

"We're doing that too. What are you getting at?"

"It's eleven thirty-eight, and you've only just started packing up breakfast, and you haven't even finished lunch prep. You're going to need me, so shut the fuck up and let me work."

Tying up his apron, Sanji pushed past Carne and immediately busied himself with slicing up the vegetables for salads. He tried to drown out Carne ordering the other chefs to clean up breakfast faster, until the older man appeared beside Sanji with another tub of onions.

"Alright, but if you think you can avoid the old man by working in the lunch rush, you've got another thing coming."

Sanji scowled, but resigned himself to focusing on the slicing vegetables.

For the first hour, Sanji was tense with anticipation of rounding the corner and bumping into Zeff, face red with anger. But after business started to pick up, Sanji lost himself in the rhythm of work. He moved fine, pausing only when he felt his side ache, but other than that, his stab-wound didn't seem to bother him much.

As the kitchen filled with the aroma of cooking, and comforting yells and curses of the chef's rose with the stress of the day, Sanji almost forgot about the whole ordeal, or the fact he was in the hospital earlier that day. That was until he heard the back door slam open and a distant but gruff voiced grumbling 'where is he?'

Sanji retreated as deep into the kitchen as possible, squeezing himself between two line chefs who were arguing over the chowder. Trying his best to ignore the tall, plump man he could see wobbling into the kitchen out of his peripheral.

"You've left that to stew for too long," he spoke to the line chefs. "The vegetables are gonna come apart. Take it off the heat."

A heavy hand grabbed the scruff of his uniform and dragged him out, cutting him off mid-sentence. Sanji resisted flinching and forced a blank look on his face as he turned to Zeff, looming over him, sneering with flared nostrils.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Zeff seethed.

"Cooking," Sanji answered lamely. He noticed the chefs around him have gone silent, feeling the fear radiate from them.

"Get out," Zeff's tone was dangerously low, and when Sanji didn't answer or budge, he yelled, "Get out, NOW!"

This time, the whole kitchen rendered silent. He didn't have a choice. Sanji left the kitchen, trying to ignore the smug look on Patty's face as he passed him. He stopped once he reached the stairwell between the exit and the back entrance to the kitchen, knowing that this was probably private enough for the old man to confront him.

"What the fuck, Sanji?" Zeff didn't even wait for the door to close behind them before he started. "I get a call from the hospital, saying you've been admitted, and I drive all the way there just to find out you left before you even got discharged properly?"

Sanji frowned. "I got discharged. They said I could go."

"No they didn't! Your little doctor friend was all in a state saying you've disappeared."

Sanji opened his mouth to retort, but realised that Nami probably lied so she could smuggle him out of there. He didn't want to shove any blame on her.

"It doesn't matter. It wasn't anything big anyway, I just got in a fight."

"You got shanked!" Zeff was pacing now. "Who the hell gets up and starts working after having a knife run through them?"

"I was fine! Even Chopper said so. Besides, I hate hospitals."

"That's no fucking reason to just up and walk out of there! And I suppose you were just gonna waltz back in here without telling me you got in a fight?"

"I've been working since I got here, haven't I?"

"You shouldn't have been!" Zeff sighed, running a wrinkled hand over his face. "What the fuck do I do about you, little eggplant?"

Sanji faltered at the nickname and a small pang of guilt pulled at his stomach. He might not act it, but the old man was such a sap. Zeff probably just worked himself up with worry.

"Alright," Sanji began to reason. "I shouldn't have left the hospital without being discharged, and I should've called you about it. But what's done is done, and I'm fine now, anyway."

Zeff gave a dry laugh. "Yeah right. You think I'd just let you get away with it that easily?"

He reached over and yanked the apron from Sanji's uniform.

"You're banned from my kitchen until _I_ think you're better, and if I see you in there, even in the larder, then I'm kicking you out. Now get your ass upstairs and fucking get some rest."

With nothing else to say, Zeff turned and disappeared behind the kitchen door. Sanji groaned and kicked at the wood before stomping up the stairs to their flat above the restaurant. Just when he had finally gotten his mind off the horrors of the hospital, Zeff took that one distraction away from him, and now he was left to his own thoughts again.

Shutting the door behind him, Sanji felt all his energy drain out of his body.

"I'm home," he called out softly, dragging his feet along the floor as he shuffled to couch and collapsed into the cushions. He didn't feel this tired before. Surely just a few hours of work couldn't have taken it out of him already.

A shadow moved before him and he felt the draft of someone passing him by. Sanji looked up from the couch and saw a shape disappear down the hallway. He stared at the empty spot. The flat was so quiet he could hear the distant chattering and clattering of business in the restaurant downstairs. If he listened close enough, he could make out the old man's voice yelling at some poor sod.

Taking a deep breath, Sanji closed his eyes and resigned himself for a short nap. A metallic clang resounded from his bedroom. Sanji's eyes flickered open, met with the sight of the empty flat. His glance fell on the clock hanging on the wall, watching the hand slowly tick by the seconds. Another clang, then a thud.

Sanji's heart drummed in his chest. These things shouldn't surprise him anymore, but somehow they still managed to catch him out. Rolling off the couch, he made his way to his bedroom. It looked just as he'd left it last night, but on the bottom of his drawer, a can of deodorant rolled to a stop beside a pen and his notebook that had landed open on its pages.

Sanji's eyes flickered to the open windows, but it was a breezeless day outside. Shaking his head, he picked up his belongings from the floor and placed them neatly back on the drawer and on his desk beside it. He turned back to the door.

A man appeared at the doorway, cut up and covered in blood. Sanji yelped and backed up into his drawer, knocking everything to the floor with clatter. The man was gone. Sanji stared at the empty doorway, breathing heavy, and cold sweat breaking out of his skin. His heart thumped so hard against his chest it hurt.

"No, no, no, no," he muttered, rushing to his door and slamming it shut. He stared at white plywood. What fuck was that? Could that really have been a spectre? Was he just imagining things? Not bothering to change, Sanji leapt into his bed and buried himself under covers and pillows.

In the darkness, he screwed his eyes shut and forced his beating heart to still. He willed himself to stay hidden, no matter what noises he heard, no matter what presence he felt. If he couldn't see the spectres, they couldn't affect him. It was a childish tactic, but it was one that worked in the past. He wasn't going to stop using it now.

He forced his mind to think of other things, dragging out a string of thoughts that ranged from cooking, to schoolwork, to his friends, to various other memories that seemed useless to recall. Anything to take his mind off what he'd just seen. Somewhere along the line, the thoughts stopped, and Sanji dropped off into the realm of sleep, the bloodied man peeking out at the corner of his dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

It was dark when Sanji came to and unfurled himself from under his covers. The air was cold, and the fading sunlight gave his room an azure glow that made it feel colder.

He heard cluttering coming from the kitchen and remembered that the sound of the front door was what woke him up. Yawning and stretching out of bed, Sanji stripped out of his work uniform and changed into loose and baggy pyjamas. He paused at the mirror, half way through pulling his top on, catching the sight of the pristine white bandage wrapped around his chest. Absently, he ran a hand over the stitches on his wound, feeling the bumps on his skin where the thread pulled. Sanji wondered if it would leave a scar, mulling over whether or not he liked the idea of a scar on his milky skin that had been practically unscathed up until now.

The dull clang of a pot on the stove snapped Sanji's thoughts back to the present, and he pulled on his top before ambling to the living room. He blinked at the kitchen lights that stung his eyes, yawning loudly to announce his presence and making his way to Zeff, who meandered about in their tiny kitchen.

"See? Fine my ass, you've slept through the whole day, didn't you?" Zeff grumbled.

Sanji scowled. "I just got tired."

"You better not be up all night now. And you skipped lunch! I bet you didn't have any breakfast either, did you?"

"I ate while I worked downstairs earlier," said Sanji, but at the mention of food, his stomach grumbled in response.

Zeff rolled his eyes. "Sit down."

Sanji's brows knotted as he watched Zeff turn to a steaming pot on the stove that smelt of something tangy and spicy.

"I can cook for myself you know," said Sanji. "You didn't have to make something."

"As if I'd waste my time cooking for you. We made extra downstairs so I just brought some up."

Sanji watched him ladle long strings of spaghetti into a bowl. When Sanji received the bowl in his hands, he blinked at the contents. Spicy seafood pasta, his ultimate comfort food.

"This wasn't on the menu today," said Sanji, eyeing the old man suspiciously.

"It's in the evening menu, genius," replied Zeff, taking a seat at their small dinning table in the corner. "Now are you gonna eat it, or let it go to waste getting cold in your hands?"

Sanji took a seat opposite him and started to eat. He knew this wasn't in the evening menu either. Zeff, no doubt, cooked it downstairs for him. But Sanji decided not to press any further. The old man was prideful and would never admit to caring about his son so openly. Also, Sanji never turned his nose up at the chance to taste Zeff's cooking.

He was a master, everything Sanji aspired to be, and he always had a 'teach-by-experience' method of training Sanji. So Sanji ate, savouring the taste of his favourite meal in his tongue, letting the spices and the warmth soothe the dull ache in his muscles. Sanji tried to replicate this dish several times before. Although he had gotten close, and everyone always said everything he churned out was brilliant, Sanji knew he was off by a little bit. It wasn't enough.

He watched as Zeff quietly filled up his pipe and lit up. Sanji recalled finding old photographs as a child of his father smoking cigarettes the way he himself did now. But somewhere along the line, the old man had swapped the sticks for a sailor's wooden pipe and Sanji never really knew why.

As Zeff puffed out a stream of smoke Sanji chuckled. The old chef gave him a look that challenged 'what's so funny?'

"You really do look like an old man, smoking that fucking pipe," said Sanji.

Zeff huffed. "You know the only reason I let you get away with calling me 'old man', is that one day you'll have a little runt of your own who does exactly the same thing. Then you'll know what it's like."

Sanji shook his head and returned to rolling up spaghetti and prawns in his fork.

"What's it like downstairs?" he asked. "I bet you wish I was working now."

"It's none of your business. I'm being serious about that kitchen ban, little eggplant."

Sanji snorted. "You can't keep me out of the kitchen forever."

"Ha! I'd like to see you try and get in. You wanna end up with a prosthetic leg lodged in your skull? Go ahead, be my guest."

"Come on, you old fart. I like working in the Baratie, and you can't deny that I do a pretty damn good job! Besides it keeps me… occupied."

"Yeah? Well find something else to 'occupy' yourself with. Summer'll be over in a few weeks anyway, and then you'll have all the occupation you need. Thank god."

"School doesn't start for another three weeks. Surely you don't intend to keep me out of work for that long. I thought you said I could go back to work once I'm better?"

"That'll be for me to decide," said Zeff gruffly, pushing himself out of his chair and tapping out the ash in his pipe.

"You better not waste a single prawn in there," he added. "I'm heading back down. God knows I've left them all down there for too long."

Sanji opened his mouth and began to protest, but Zeff had already shut the door behind him and trundled downstairs. Sanji groaned and turned to finish off the last of his dinner with aggression. Great. What was he supposed to do for three weeks if he couldn't work?

Nights out were definitely a no go, at least until he was completely recovered. It would be stupid to get stabbed on a night out twice in one week. With an empty bowl, Sanji leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling as the sad realization that he didn't have many other hobbies apart from cooking sunk in.

Sanji chuckled. Not that that was a bad thing. From what Sanji gathered, as soon as he signs up to be a full-time chef, he wouldn't have much time for anything else anyway. He glanced up at the clock in the living room. It was only seven thirty.

He began to fill out the time washing up, packing up the left over pasta, and tidying the kitchen a little. After skimming through channels and finding nothing interesting on T.V, he switched it off and checked his phone. His eyes widened at the long list of notifications and various messages from his friends.

Luffy sent him two texts expressing his awe at Sanji's fighting ability. The girls sent him a message each, wishing him well asking how he was doing, and Robin sent him an extra message saying that Chopper was very upset he'd left the hospital without being properly discharged. After that, Sanji grimaced at a long string of texts from Chopper, including miss calls, e-mails and Facebook messages, all asking where he was.

Usopp sent him an on-going commentary, via text, of how he apparently bravely escorted all of the ladies back to their individual homes and had to battle through hoards of thugs and mafia bosses in order to do so. He then sent Sanji several snapchats of his face expressing worry at Sanji's condition, each one captioned with well wishes.

Sanji laughed to himself, wasting no time in replying to everyone, letting them know he was safe and at home now. After all that, Sanji checked the time again, only to be hit by a wall of disappointment to find that he only managed to kill an hour or so. With a breath of exasperation, Sanji retreated to his bedroom and tried to loose himself in a book.

It was difficult when others had a different idea. A few chapters in to his book, Sanji's bedroom door swung from slightly ajar to fully open. He stared at the empty hallway, feeling an unearthly chill render shivers down his spine and prickle his skin into goose bumps. For a moment, nothing happened. Then his can of deodorant toppled from his drawer again and rolled along the floor.

Sanji took a deep breath, closing his book and getting out of bed. Picking up his deodorant, he replaced it back on top of the drawer. The temperature dropped around him. Moisture appeared on the surface of the can, and his breath streamed out of his lips.

Sanji shuddered, crossing his arms and tucking his hands away from the cold. He checked the time on his alarm clock. _9:18_.

"Mum," Sanji spoke in a low voice. "It's late. You should go to bed."

For a moment, there was nothing, just the stillness and solitude of his room. Then, with a creak of hinges, his door swung and slammed shut. The temperature evened out, but the cold still clung to Sanji's skin. Rubbing his arms, he moved to shut the window before climbing under the covers in his bed.

Tiredness creeped into his bones, so he decided to put away his book and switched off the lamp he was reading by. The streetlights outside painted his blue walls with an unhealthy yellow glow. He could still hear the distant clattering and yelling of the chefs in the Baratie below. Normally, it soothed him. But tonight, sleep did not come easy, as Sanji lay in bed and continued to stare at his white bedroom door.

It had been like this since his mother died. Everyone worried about him, because he showed no remorse for her during her funeral. While the old man wept for as long as Sanji could remember, he lived on as though she was never gone. That was because it was true, at least for him.

When they returned home from her funeral, he found her there, roaming aimlessly between the bedrooms and the kitchen. She made her presence known often, toppling items to the floor, opening doors and windows. When the air grew cold, she was near. Sometimes, she even dared to touch Sanji. But she didn't do it often, after giving him a fever when he was younger.

Sanji thought he would be happy at first. But as he got older and learned more about the spectres, he knew she was still here because she was unhappy. Unhappy and unwilling to leave this world. It caused an ache in him that surged through his chest and down to his gut. He didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to make things better.

Curling up under the covers, Sanji shut his eyes and willed himself to sleep, despite the tears that escaped through his eyelids.

The bloodied man lingered in Sanji's dreams. He was less intrusive, less central. But every time Sanji caught even so much as a glimpse of him, his heart began to race, his skin grew clammy and his breathing thinned out until he felt dizzy.

Sanji woke up panting for breath. He threw the covers off him, all of a sudden feeling warm and stifled under them. His room was dark, and everything was quiet now, even the Baratie downstairs. Taking a deep breath, Sanji glanced at the glowing numbers of his alarm clock.

_3:48_

Laying back in his bed, Sanji tried to recover the sleep he'd lost. He tried not to let his mind wander over his dreams, or any other thoughts. All he wanted was to be back in the folds of sleep.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Sanji's eyes fluttered open, focusing on the white paint of his ceiling, bathed in gold by the streetlight.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Turning in bed, Sanji shut his eyes again. In his mind, he chanted the mantra of sleep, sleep, sleep, again and again, over and over. Until his mantra joined with the rhythmic drip, drip, drip.

With a defeated sigh, Sanji pushed himself off the bed and left his bedroom to investigate. He navigated the living room, somewhat illuminated by that single streetlamp outside, and made it to the kitchen. Leaning over the sink, Sanji peered at the tap. The dripping persisted, but further away, and no water came from the kitchen tap either.

Just for good measure, Sanji twisted the tap tighter, before making his way to the bathroom. He blinked under the bright lights as he flicked the switch on, before continuing to inspect all the taps. Nothing from the sink. Sanji leaned over the tub, squinting at the tap, but couldn't see anything. He turned the tap, squeezing it shut, and waited.

Silence.

Sanji breathed a sigh of relief. He stood up and made his way out of the bathroom, flicking off the lights as he went. His eyes didn't adjust to the darkness in time, but he felt the cold steel of the door handle to his bedroom.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Sanji paused, his head turning back towards the kitchen.

"You're fucking kidding me," he muttered under his breath, as he strode towards the kitchen.

Tiny droplets of water leaked from the edge of the tap, splattering a miniature puddle at the base of the sink. Grumbling, Sanji screwed the tap as tight as he could get it. Fuck the old man if he complained about it in the morning. Finally, the dripping stopped.

A chill trembled across Sanji's skin.

"Mum, quit it-"

He turned and stood face to face with the bloodied man. Sanji screamed, staggering backwards and slipping to the floor. Blood tainted his bare feet and smeared across the kitchen tiles. The man watched him, thick crimson sludge dripping down defined jawline and pooling at the floor. The smell of steel pierced the air.

"Fuckshitfuck," Sanji muttered curses and scrambled away. Clumsily finding his bearings, he ran for his bedroom. He twisted the handle. The door shuddered but didn't open.

"No, no," Sanji's voice came out as a whine. He looked back at the kitchen. The bloodied man stared back, the void of his eyes piercing right at Sanji. He moved. Wet footsteps slapped against tiles, then wooden floors. Sanji kicked at his door. It shuddered on its hinges, but didn't budge. The man was halfway across the living room, getting closer and agonizingly closer in his slow, ambling pace.

Fuck this.

Sanji fled into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He moved the tall bathroom cabinet before the door and stood back. Sweat ran down his face, the cold liquid contrasting the hot, panicked flush of his skin. His heart hammered away at his chest, and his mouth felt as dry as sand.

He waited, staring at the still door. Was he really going to have to wait here all night? Pacing the floor, Sanji counted the seconds. Each still second that passed only heightened his anxiety.

But what else could he do?

He waited. Nothing. How long had he been waiting for now? Swallowing a lump in his throat, Sanji moved the cabinet back to the wall, and opened the door. The dark and quiet hallway greeted him. He peered around the doorway. Nothing. Just the empty living room and the kitchen. No blood on the floors. Sanji looked down at his feet. They were clean.

_Great. Now he was hallucinating._

He strode to his bedroom, flinging the door open. It was just as he'd left it. Confused, but with relief starting to settle in his chest, Sanji turned around and closed the door.

A hand grabbed the edge of the white door, painting bloody fingerprints on the wood. Sanji gasped, and was pushed backwards as the door flung open and the bloodied man entered Sanji's room.

"Go away!" Sanji yelled, as the man ambled closer to him. "Fucking, go away!"

Sanji lashed out. A cold, wet hand gripped his wrist, another dug crimson fingers on his shoulder. Sanji wriggled to get free, grunting and whimpering, but his muscles were frozen in terror. The soulless eyes of the spectre loomed closer. With a sound like brittle, snapping twigs, the bloodied man's jaws opened. Wider. Wider. His teeth grew out, growing long and thin until they were swords, and with a gurgling cry that drowned out Sanji's frantic screaming, he lunged forward and devoured him.

Stern hands held his shoulder, shaking him vigourously.

"Sanji? Sanji!"

He felt something hard strike him across his face. Sanji's eyes flickered open. With his vision blurred at the edges, and confusion causing an ache in his head, Sanji cast his eyes around the darkness of his bedroom. He glanced up to see Zeff looming over him, one hand gripping his wrist, the other settling down from being held in the air to hold him up by his shoulder.

Sanji panted, the air struggling to squeeze through a tight space in his throat. Zeff's wrinkles creased deeper with a frown, as he stared at his son with grey eyes that glinted with worry.

"What happened?"

Sanji glanced at his unmade bed, then out of the open doorway to the bathroom across the hall. The lights were still on. What the hell had happened? Was that all a dream?

"Shit, Sanji," Zeff leaned back, his eyes focused on Sanji's stomach.

Sanji sat up and looked down. A red blotch stained the front of his blue pyjama top. When he lifted it, the bandage underneath was drenched in blood. The scent stung his nostrils. Sanji doubled over and threw up on the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

Sanji lay back on the hospital bed, watching the spectre of lady lying in the bed beside him. After a while, she'd get up then float aimlessly out of the doorway. A few minutes pass, and she'd return just to get back on the empty bed and lay there. She'd been doing this over and over again since Sanji was admitted to this room. He was the only patient. Normally, he hated being left alone with spectres, but he didn't mind her. She was a lot better company that the other he battled with earlier that night.

She got up again. Sanji watched her leave, eyes falling on the open doorway she disappeared around. Outside, he could hear the low hum of Zeff's voice and Chopper's squeaky whisper.

"He's fine," said Chopper. "The tests came back and his wound's not infected."

"Are you sure? You told me he was ill at the hospital the other night as well."

"Has he had fits like this before?"

Zeff sighed. "They're not really fits, or anything like that… He's had terrible nightmares before. Ones that give him the shakes. His mother was always good at calming him down…"

Chopper hummed. "Perhaps it's stress with work? I know he helps around at your restaurant often."

Zeff gave a short laugh. "Yeah, well he ain't doing that anytime soon."

There was a pause and rustling of paper.

"I'm afraid, given the current circumstances, I'd strongly advise that Sanji stay here until his stitches can be removed. Would that be okay with you?"

"Absolutely. The little brat ain't gonna like it, but right now, he doesn't have a say in this."

"You're welcome to visit anytime, of course. And if you wanted to come after visiting hours, just ask for my name at the desk. I can let you up."

"Thank you."

"Also… This might not be my place to say, but, um… If these nightmares have been a burden to him in the past, then… Perhaps it might be best to speak to a counsellor about it?"

The old man didn't reply. Sanji balled his fists on the sheets.

"It's all up to you of course. But, if it's becoming detrimental to his health, then… I can recommend him to a friend of mine. He's an expert in neuropsychology and works as a guidance councelor in an institute up north."

"Thank you, doctor. I'll talk it over with him first."

Footsteps faded down the corridor, and a short time after, Zeff appeared at the doorway. He hobbled over to sit at the armchair beside Sanji's bed. Sanji noticed the pamphlet sticking out of Zeff's back pocket.

"How are you feeling, little eggplant?"

"I need a fag," grumbled Sanji, his voice coming out rough and strained. "And I can think of a million other places I could be in right now that would be better than here."

Zeff laughed. "Well, you better get used to it, because you're staying put until that little doctor says you're free to go."

With a heavy sigh Sanji slumped back on the bed and let the silence draw out between them.

"Sanji," Zeff's voice was low.

Sanji could tell what was coming next and he didn't like it.

"Will you tell me what happened now?"

"It's exactly what you think it is," said Sanji. "I had a bad dream and that's it."

"Bad dream? I wake up because you're screaming bloody murder, then I manage to get up in time to see you flying from the bathroom and scrambling all over your goddamn floor! What kind of idiot has bad dreams that affect him like that?"

Sanji doesn't answer. How else does he explain something like this in a way his father would understand? He'd learnt a long time ago that Zeff didn't react kindly to conversation about his 'gift'. Especially after a long and painful argument he'd had with the old man as a child, when his mother supposedly died and he insisted she was still there in the rooms.

No, Sanji promised himself he'd never to talk his father or anyone else about his abilities again. It was something people simply didn't understand. It was something _he_ barely even understood. This bloodied man that seemed so vivid. So real. The stench of blood so pervasive in the air. The cold, wet grip on his hand and his shoulder… Sanji shuddered. He could still feel those fingers digging into his flesh. How could it have been a dream?

"This isn't the first time either," Zeff spoke again.

Sanji looked up and met the old man's worried eyes.

"You've had bad nightmares like this before. You think I didn't notice? Your mother used to deal with them, but after she'd gone…"

Sanji focused all his attention on a spot in the ceiling. This was a conversation he didn't want to have. Ever.

Zeff sighed, leaning forward and running a hand through his hair. "Is it because of her?"

No answer.

"You need to let her go, little eggplant," Zeff continued. "It hurts, but I've moved on from that now. You can too."

Sanji closed his eyes. "This has nothing to do with her."

"Then what is it?"

Sanji could sense desperation and frustration straining at the old man's voice. He couldn't look at him right now. The chair creaked as Zeff pushed himself up.

"If you don't feel comfortable enough to tell your own flesh and blood, then maybe you'll talk to a complete stranger."

Sanji heard the flick of a paper and turned to see the pamphlet on the table by his bed. It was a simple, black and white print out, crinkled a little from being in the old man's pocket. It had a picture of a brick building on the front, above the words: _Dressrosa Institue_.

Sanji scoffed. He knew exactly what kind of place Dressrosa was.

"There's nothing wrong with me," he said, glancing up at the old man.

Zeff only met him with a wounded expression. He didn't believe him. His own father genuinely thought he'd gone insane. A sharp pain pierced through Sanji's chest at the thought of it.

"I can't help you, Sanji," said Zeff. "I took so long to get my bloody leg on, I couldn't get to you in time. What if that happens again? What if you throw another tantrum and seriously injure yourself this time? I can't…"

His voice trailed off, and Sanji could sense the deep-seated remorse for his disability that he always hid so well. Guilt pressed down on Sanji's shoulders like a weighted bag. Inside, he decided he didn't want to involve the old man in this anymore that he had done tonight.

Zeff cleared his throat, breaking through the heavy cloud that settled around the room.

"I need to get back to the Baratie," he said. "I'll be back around lunch time."

He grabbed his coat and nodded to the pamphlet on the table.

"Think about it, at least. Please."

Without another word, Zeff left through the open doorway. Sanji glared at the pamphlet like it was something unholy and disgusting. He reached over and scrunched it up, throwing it at the bin across the room. He missed.

With a frustrated sigh, he slumped back on the bed. The lady returned, floating slowly towards the bed and laying still as stone. She didn't get up again. Sanji liked to think it was because she felt some form of pity towards him, and chose to keep him company.

Sanji couldn't sleep. He didn't want to. Not when the bloodied man lurked around in his sub-conscience, like a shark in dark waters. When tiredness did lure him into sleep, it was fitful. Only a half hour or so would pass before he startled awake, gasping and frantically assessing his surroundings to see if he was truly in the waking world or not.

The spectre of the lady was still there, hovering on the empty bed beside him. Sanji checked the clock on the wall. It was eight twenty-five. The morning sun streamed in through the windows, and the bustle around the hospital started to pick up.

With a heavy sigh, Sanji pushed himself out of bed, rubbing stinging eyes and stretching aching muscles. He wasn't going to sleep now. Peering out of the doorway to his room, Sanji narrowed his eyes and searched for any sign on Chopper. With the corridors clear, Sanji left his room and wandered down towards the lifts.

It didn't take long for him to find Zoro's room again. He stared through the glass at the sleeping boy, wired to machines, barely moving. Koshiro was there too, dozing on the chair beside bed.

Sanji hovered a fist at the door, before deciding against knocking and crept into the room. Who knew how much sleep Koshiro actually got these days? Still, not wanting to be rude, Sanji stood by the chair and cleared his throat.

Koshiro grumbled, but only slumped further in his seat and continued to sleep soundly. Poor man. Sanji moved to stand by the end of Zoro's bed, mimicking the position of the bloodied man in his nightmares. He watched Zoro's chest rise and fall in a slow rhythm. Bandages peeked out of the neckline of the hospital gown he currently wore. Sanji's mind wandered to the scars on the bloodied man, all spewing blood and entrails. He shuddered.

"Ah, Sanji-kun," Koshiro's voice startled Sanji. The elder man stretched in his chair, righting his glasses with the base of his palm.

Sanji laughed nervously. "Sorry, I let myself in. I didn't want to wake you."

"That's alright," Koshiro paused and turned to the green-haired teen. "Zoro, Sanji-kun is here to visit, again."

He then beamed at Sanji, as though expecting some form of introduction.

"Um… Hi," said Sanji, quietly.

Koshiro's face creased into a light frown as he looked over Sanji's hospital gown.

"Are you alright?"

Sanji forced a laugh and shook his head. "It's nothing. Just, er, had a little accident at home. I'm fine."

The elder man looked uncertain, but the expression disappeared from his face and he stood up, clapping his hands together.

"Take a seat. Let me make you some tea," he said, striding to cross the room to the counters on the other side.

"Oh, no you don't have to," Sanji began, but Koshiro had already put the kettle on. He wasn't getting out of this.

Fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, Sanji took a seat in another chair beside the bed. He was closer to Zoro's life support machine. The constant beeping, now louder on his ear, seemed to chant 'still alive still alive still alive'.

"I was just telling Zoro about my recent trip back home," Koshiro spoke as he poured dried tealeaves into two cups. "So much paper work to deal with. It's tiresome."

Sanji simply hummed in response, partly listening to the elder man's ramblings, and partly looking over Zoro. His arms were covered in bandages too, as though they were keeping everything held together. A steaming mug of light green liquid appeared before his eyes, breaking Sanji's train of thought.

"Thanks," said Sanji, taking the mug. The warmth seeped through his palms, and the slight scent of mint relaxed him.

Koshiro had a sympathetic look on his face. "Were you close with Zoro?"

"Um…" Sanji sipped his tea and stalled for time, thinking up a reasonable answer. "We didn't really talk much. I was just surprised when I found out he was in a coma."

Koshiro nodded. "We all were."

A heavy silence fell in the room. Sanji had to clasp his mug tightly to stop himself from fidgeting or aimlessly fiddling with his clothes.

"If…" Sanji began, a little uneasily. "If you don't mind me asking… How did this happen?"

Koshiro's eyes darkened. The elder man stared at Zoro, his brows knotted and the edges of his lips pulled downwards in a slight frown.

"It's not something easy to talk about…"

Sanji nodded, shutting up staring at the tea in his hands as thought it were something infinitely interesting. He shouldn't have asked about it at all. The longer the silence drew out from Koshiro, Sanji was certain he was definitely not getting an answer. But the man spoke again.

"Zoro didn't go into a coma by accident," Koshiro continued. His voice was low, and distant. "Someone attempted to take his life."

Sanji's eyes widened. All the heat drained from his body, and he could swear the ringing started in his ears again.

"They found his body in the woods just outside the city. The police said that two hikers found him. They thought he was dead."

Koshiro paused and gently removed his glasses. His eyes looked a lot smaller without them on. Pulling out a black cloth from his pocket, Koshiro polished the lenses of his glasses as he spoke.

"He'd been missing for two days before then. I was so worried… and when the police appeared at my doorstep, I feared the worst. But he was alive. Just."

Koshiro replaced the glasses on his face. When he looked up, his eyes were watery and a thin smile spread across his face.

"The doctors said he may have gone under due trauma. We've been trying everything to bring him back but… Well… It was going alright. But he hasn't shown any improvements for the past few months."

Koshiro's voice sounded far away, as Sanji's brain pieced his story together. Attempted murder, barely alive… Zoro should've died that time, but he clung on to life. He held on, all this time. For what?

"Did they find out who did it?" asked Sanji.

Koshiro's face broke again and he shook his head.

"The police were investigating for weeks, but they found nothing. We don't know who did it, we don't know what happened. They tell me they're still investigating, but… I'm beginning to doubt it."

_Aha._ Sanji felt like he was waking up for the first time. A weight lifted from his shoulders, and a fire began to burn in his chest. They don't know who did it. A whole year, and Zoro's death hasn't been avenged or justified. That's why he was still here.

"The doctors are beginning to talk about, perhaps changing Zoro's treatment. Putting him on DNS…"

The ringing sharpened in Sanji's ear and pain pierced through his mind. Sanji rubbed his temple and screwed his eyes shut.

"They don't think he'll wake from this…"

He opened his eyes again. The bloodied man appeared behind Koshiro, void like eyes staring at him from across the room. Sanji gasped, startling in his seat. The mug slipped from his hand and shattered on the tiles.

"Sanji-kun?" Koshiro got up and rushed to the blonde's side, placing a gentle hand on his shoulders.

Again, the spectre disappeared. Sanji was panting, an ache throbbed in his skull, and all the hairs on his arms stood on end.

"Are you alright?" asked Koshiro.

Sanji tried to get up, the ceramic mug crunching under his foot.

"Shit, sorry," he muttered, crouching down and trying to clean up his mess.

"Don't worry," said Koshiro, moving to grab some paper towels on the counters. "I shouldn't have said that. Please don't mind me. I've just… I've been carrying these thoughts around for so long."

Sanji shook his head, picking up the last pieces of the broken mug and throwing it in the bin. He watched Koshiro, bent over the puddle of spilt tea as he moped it up with paper towels.

The feeling of pity only served as fuel for the fire that started burning in Sanji's chest. He had to help this guy out.

"Don't worry about Zoro," Sanji said, crouching down to help clean up the mess. "If it's as bad as you said it was, then he should've died that time. But he didn't. He's alive, which means he's strong. So he'll pull through."

It was all bullshit, of course. But he had to say something to ease the man's worries somewhat. Koshiro looked at him with a blank expression, and Sanji wondered if he'd overstepped a line. But then a soft smile spread across his face, and Sanji sighed internally with relief.

"Thank you, Sanji-kun. That means a lot."

Sanji shook his head, feeling embarrassed about it all. He quickly finished cleaning and binned the rest of the paper towels.

"Don't mention it. Listen, I'm not actually supposed to be out of my room, so I better head back. I'm sort of feeling a bit tired anyway."

Koshiro bowed. "You're welcome any time."

Sanji nodded awkwardly and headed for the door.

"Thanks for the tea," he said, turning back to give the man and Zoro one last glance, before shutting the door behind him and sneaking back to his room.


	7. Chapter 7

Sleep still eluded Sanji. But as the morning drew on, a myriad of visitors came and went that made him forget how tired he was. His old man visited with Patty, who drove him there. Zeff questioned him extensively on meal-times, and whether or not he was keeping food down this time, before giving him some breakfast in a plastic tub and leaving as abruptly as he came.

Chopper, of course, was a constant. As was the spectre of the lady, who now returned to her routine of getting out of bed, floating out of the room, and returning to hover over her bed once more.

In the afternoon, his friends burst into the room with a bang, bringing balloons and 'get well soon' cards and gifts into the room. Usopp had even brought him his phone and his notebook that he'd left behind in his bedroom. Sanji was touched by the sentiment, but hid it under complaints that Luffy and Usopp were making a racket as usual and showered the girls with compliments and praises of love. Even Chopper managed to hang out with them during his lunch break.

They were there for a good two hours, before a nurse entered the room and told them they were being too noisy and would have to leave if they didn't shut up. A few minutes later, the same nurse returned with a grumpy looking doctor that promptly told them to leave.

Usopp and Kaya left first. After a few dangerous minutes of Luffy being too loud again, Robin decided to leave and drag the overly energetic boy with her. Vivi left soon after, quite flustered and apologizing to Nami, who only slapped her on the arm and told her 'it's not like that'. Sanji didn't get it.

"Thank god," Nami said with a breath of relief as she went about clearing up the mess they made. "Its fun being with that lot, but tiring."

"You mean it's fun being with _Luffy_, but tiring," Sanji corrected.

Nami laughed. "Of course."

Sanji settled into his bed. She was right though. Now that it was just the two of them left, Sanji felt like he'd just done a whole shift at the Baratie. Nami pulled up a chair and sat beside him.

"So, how are you feeling?" She asked in a sing-song voice.

"Could be better. I'm dying for a smoke too."

Nami chuckled. "How are you coping with… you know."

Sanji hummed. He knew what she was asking about. Sanji still felt a little uncomfortable talking about it with people, but Nami had always been the one who was the most accepting about it in a genuine way.

He sat up, Nami startled and Sanji assumed it was from the sudden solemn expression on his face.

"I think I'm being haunted again," he said.

Nami blinked.

"Haunted?" she exclaimed, then her voice rose. "Again?"

Sanji shook his head. "It's a long story, but… I think I know why he's haunting me."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait. You're gonna have to give me some context here."

"Do you remember that guy I told you about? Zoro?"

"Who now?"

"That guy you saw the other day, when you picked me up from the hospital. The one in that room?"

Nami's face cleared with realization. "The one you said… The one that you can see in your dreams?"

Sanji looked down at his hands. "Well… I think it's a bit more than that."

Nami didn't answer, he silence prompting Sanji to carry on. He took a deep breath.

"I pulled my stitches because he appeared to me again. It wasn't a dream. I swear it wasn't a dream..."

Sanji remembered the tight, solid grip on his wrist again.

"How can you be sure?" Nami asked slowly, carefully.

"It's different. In the dreams, he's still. A spectre. But that night, he moved. There was contact, and that's not a normal thing."

Sanji wanted to get up and pace, but knew he didn't have the energy for that right now. He settled for grabbing his pen from the table and spinning it between his fingers.

"Spectres and people don't just interact like that. Even seers can only do just that. See or sense. There's never an interaction. When there is… That's something else now. He's not just a spectre anymore, he's becoming something else."

"Something else… As in something more dangerous?" Nami asked, her brown eyes wide and glistening.

Sanji nodded. "It's possible, yeah."

They didn't speak after that. Sanji mulled his thoughts in his head as he flipped his pen and waited for the facts to sink into Nami's mind.

"Alright," she said, breaking the silence. "So, you're being haunted, and by 'again' I assume this has happened to you before and you stopped it."

Sanji bit his lip. He didn't bother telling her that his first haunting hasn't technically ended either.

"So… You want to stop this spectre too?"

"Excorcise, I guess, would be the correct term."

Nami took a deep breath, linking her hands together and tucking them between her knees.

"Shit… That's… That's like something in the movies, Sanji," she said.

Sanji gave a dry chuckle. "I know…"

"So how are you gonna do it?"

He looked up at her then. Her eyes glinted with determination. Sanji wondered if it was fine to involve her like this.

"Zoro lapsed into a coma because someone tried to kill him last year," explained Sanji. "They didn't do a very good job of it. But they did manage to cover their tracks. The police couldn't find anyone guilty for Zoro's attempted murder."

"That's why he's a vengeful ghost," said Nami, gasping in her revelation.

"Spectre," Sanji corrected. "But yeah. That's probably what's keeping him here. If I can find out who did this, turn him in, maybe Zoro can finally rest and quit keeping me up at night."

Nami nodded and the pair retreated into their own thoughts again. Sanji swallowed and busied himself with checking his phone. The uncertainty of telling someone about his abilities started to settle in, and the feeling of insecurity began to wiggle it's way through Sanji's gut. What did Nami think of him now? Did she really believe everything he said?

She turned to him, her delicate face creased in a frown. "How are you going to find Zoro's killer?"

Sanji hadn't thought that far ahead, and thus had no answer for her. Nami leaned forward, placing a hand on his arm.

"Let me help," she said.

Sanji shook his head vigorously. "There's no need. It's my problem, I should deal with it myself."

Nami's frown deepened and she slapped him over the side of his head.

"Don't be stubborn. Let me help you. You're stuck here for the next few days anyway, right? I'll snoop around, see if I can find out anything about this. What was the guy's name again?"

Sanji didn't answer. Nami gave him an incredulous look.

"If you don't tell me, I'll find his room again and find out myself."

Sanji sighed. "Alright. It's Zoro. Roronoa Zoro. He got admitted into the hospital September last year."

Nami nodded. "Good, that's all I need. I'll see where I can go from there."

"You don't have to help me," Sanji insisted. "We're trying to track down a murdered. It's dangerous."

Nami stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "Yes, and you're trying to get rid of an evil spirit who won't even let you sleep. Ghosts or spectres or whatever, I can't help with. But I can deal with the living, so let me at least cover that part."

She gathered her bag and her helmet before hugging Sanji goodbye and leaving to start her investigation. There was nothing else Sanji could've said to change her mind. Nami could be as stubborn as him sometimes. Still, he couldn't help but feel relieved that he had someone to talk to about this now. Someone living.

Insomnia started to take its toll of Sanji. He was never short on company, with Zeff visiting every mealtime, and his friends popping in whenever they could. Not to mention the spectre that continued her routine on the bed beside Sanji. But as the days wore on, his conversations shortened and the delay time between his responses grew. Even his friends, who were normally buzzing with energy enough that it rubbed off on him, were beginning to share the same worried look on their faces that his old man expressed.

Sometimes sleep did find him and held him in its grasp for no more than an hour each time, before he startled awake and glanced around the room like a trapped animal.

Sanji sighed and slumped forward in bed, cradling a headache in his hands. He didn't have nightmares anymore. Whether that was because he hadn't slept long enough for them to start, or whether it meant the spectre had moved from terrorizing his dreams to haunting his waking life, Sanji wasn't sure. He also wasn't sure which instance he preferred.

He glanced at the clock on the table.

_3:45_

Taking a deep breath, Sanji pushed himself out of bed. His legs wobbled, and his stiff muscles ached as he moved, but he stretched them out and meandered outside into the corridor.

When he couldn't sleep, Sanji visited Zoro. He didn't always enter the room, especially when Koshiro was sleeping. But tonight, Koshiro wasn't there. Zoro slept alone, the monitor beeping beside him the only clue that he was still alive.

Sanji glanced up and down the empty corridors. Where was Koshiro? He supposed the guy couldn't sleep in the hospital every night. Hospital chairs didn't make the most comfortable beds. But now, with his only source of distraction for his insomnia gone, Sanji was a bit amiss of what to do.

He paced the length of the window to the room, watching the green-haired teen slumber away, unaware of the damage his spectre was causing. Sanji contemplated going in anyway, reading the clipboard again for more clues. But the bloodied man had appeared twice to Sanji in that very room, and he wasn't sure he could handle the spectre on his own.

The clipboard looked more and more tempting from the other side of the glass. With no one around now, Sanji could read through Zoro's details extensively. He could find a clue, a first lead to help solve this mess. With anxiety drumming away in his chest, Sanji entered the room.

The slow, steady beeping of the machine filled the quiet atmosphere of the room. Sanji closed the door behind him with a soft thud.

"Um… hey," he greeted uncertainly. He wondered if he should've even introduced himself if he was just here to snoop around. If Zoro were even listening, he wouldn't recognize Sanji's voice anyway. But he supposed he'd been talking to Koshiro enough that maybe he was a familiar voice now.

"Er, it's me again. You know. I don't need any introduction," he trailed off in awkward laughter, met by silence. Sanji's expression flat lined.

"Oh, Sanji, how are you? I haven't seen you in a long time," He spoke again, putting on a voice. Then he switched back to his normal voice. "Ah, you know. Just banging about. Can't sleep."

"That's terrible! I wish I could give you some of my sleep. I haven't been able to wake up in forever!"

"No way! Aren't we just definition of irony?"

He paused, glancing down at the green-haired guy. The beeping monitor imitated the chirping of crickets. Sanji slapped a palm to his forehead.

"God, I really do need sleep. I'm _literally_ talking to myself..."

Deciding not to waste anymore time, he reached for the clipboard at the end of the bed. He skimmed through the details he'd already read previously, pausing to read the latest entry updating Zoro's condition.

"Continuing to be unresponsive to stimuli," Sanji read under his breath. "Nothing new there."

He sighed, reading on to find Zoro's personal details on a final sheet of paper.

"Blood type AB, no allergies or medications… Birthdate: twelfth of November, huh?" he said with a chuckle, glancing back up at Zoro.

"So you're a Scorpio? No wonder you're such a pain in the ass. November's in a few months, you better wake up if you don't wanna miss your birthday. Let's see… November nineteen ninety-three. So this year you'll be…"

Sanji paused to do the mental maths in his head.

"You'll be eighteen…"

A heavy feeling sunk into Sanji chest. Imagine missing your eighteenth? Sanji was still half a year away from being eighteen himself, but he'd already spoken to his old man about using the restaurant space for his birthday. He always considered it a big event, and now he realised it was one he took for granted, considering there were others like Zoro who wouldn't be able to celebrate theirs.

With a heavy heart, Sanji folded away the clipboard. When the plastic clanged off the metal rails of the bed, the ringing sharpened again. Out of the corner of his eye, a shape appeared.

Sanji jolted backwards. The bloodied man was there, stood beside the bed. The room filled with the scent of steel, and the sound of constant drip drip drip. The spectre's head turned slowly. Dark, soulless eyes moving from his physical form to Sanji.

"W-woah, wai-wait a minute," Sanji stuttered, holding up his palms. His stomach churned and his hands trembled as he held them up.

"Z-zoro. You're Zoro, r-right?"

The spectre moved, rounding the bed. Panic flared in Sanji's chest.

"Look, listen, I-I'm trying to help you. I know why you're angry, I know why you're still here, and I can help!"

The bloodied man stepped closer. Sanji backed up towards the door.

"I can help you! Listen to me!"

A crimson hand reached into the cuts on the man's side. Three straight lines like giant scratch marks. Fingers squelched into the wound, blood and flesh spewing out. His hand pulled out, fingers replaced with five long blades, glinting under the bright hospital lights.

"Fuck," Sanji muttered and stumbled out of the door in a frantic rush. Peering back in through the window, the apparition was gone.

Cursing under his breath, Sanji rushed back to his room. He shouldn't have even tried to talk to the thing. If he couldn't even get coherent responses from the spectre of his own mother, how was he supposed to communicate with that thing?

Sanji folded himself under the covers of his bed, placing a pillow over his head for good measure. He closed his eyes again. Although he knew he wouldn't sleep now, not with the image of the bloodied man still fresh in his mind, he could at least fool himself into thinking he was safe, as he tried to clam the rapid beating of his heart. There had to be an easier way to do this.


	8. Chapter 8

Finally the day came that Chopper deemed Sanji healthy enough to leave the hospital. The little doctor wasn't happy about Sanji's sudden case of insomnia, but that wasn't enough to keep him there.

Sanji felt elated though. He hadn't slept properly for almost a week now, and he could feel the weariness on his bones. But now that he was back in his old clothes, with a cigarette bit between his teeth ready to light up once he left the building, Sanji felt refreshed and keen to get out.

"Your dad called to say he was on his way to pick you up," said Chopper. "I'm actually supposed to be in another ward right now, so I won't stick around. But promise me you won't do any strenuous activities! Your stiches may be gone, but you're still recovering."

"Yeah, yeah, I promise," said Sanji, ruffling the little doctor's hair reassuringly. Chopper merely pouted though, before hugging his friend goodbye.

Sanji contemplated waiting in the room until the old man arrived, but he was too restless, itching to be out of the hospital. Instead, he crept out again and made his way to Zoro's room.

As constant as the dusk and the dawn, Koshiro was there with Zoro again. Remembering his manners this time, Sanji knocked on the door and entered.

"Ah, Sanji-kun," greeted Koshiro in his usual manner. "Welcome. The kettle's still warm. Would you like some tea?"

Sanji shook his head. "No thanks. I'm actually being discharged today, thought I'd drop by before I left."

"That's good news," Koshiro turned to Zoro. "You're friend will be leaving soon, Zoro-kun. Of course, you're welcome to visit anytime you want."

Sanji smiled. "Thanks."

A comfortable silence fell between the two, as they watched over Zoro's sleeping form. Sanji still found it jarring how different this Zoro was to the spectre that haunted him. He wondered what the young man was like before he fell into his coma. Didn't he have other friends that visited him?

"Um, sorry if this seems a little personal…" Sanji began, but the strain of the silence made the question falter on his tongue.

Koshiro gave him an encouraging smile. "Go on."

"Do you… I mean, do you have any clue at all who could've done this to Zoro? The police might not have found anyone, but… Was there someone who was a danger to him?"

The elder man's face darkened, his smile dropping to a frown.

"Why do you ask?"

"It's just… I find it hard to believe they got away with something this big. Wasn't there any witnesses? Was he being threatened before?"

Koshiro continued to stare at Sanji, his dark eyes glimmering behind round glasses.

"Sanji-kun," Koshiro's voice was low and calm. "You aren't thinking of finding the murderer yourself, are you?"

Sanji laughed, waving a hand in the air. "Nah, that would stupid. I was just… curious. Something doesn't add up is all..."

Koshiro hummed, narrowing his eyes at him. For a while, he didn't answer, making Sanji doubt whether or not he should've asked in the first place.

"Zoro was an athlete, you know," explained Koshiro when he finally spoke. "Practiced in martial arts, to be precise. I don't know if you knew this, but he's built quite a reputation from it. Such attention could also attract… other people."

Sanji nodded. That narrowed it down somewhat but not enough. He needed names.

"Did he have any rivals? Maybe... Was he being stalked by an obsessed fan? Did he have any friends he fell out with?"

A flicker of a smile danced on Koshiro's serious expression.

"I always did try to encourage him to socialise. But ever since he returned here from Japan, he devoted himself to his training. As for rivals, well… It could be anyone of his opponents."

Sanji let the silence draw out naturally. If he asked too many questions one after the other, it would definitely seem like he was more than 'just curious'.

"Geez, didn't know he competed seriously."

Koshiro chuckled. "Competed and won. He was very good. But… You can loose some matches too."

Sanji waited a beat again. There was something about the way Koshiro said that last bit.

"Who did he loose to?"

"Like I said, Zoro was very talented in his art. He gained wins more than losses, and often turned those losses into wins during rematches. But there was one man he could never beat. Zoro made him his goal, completely obsessed over beating the man. In fact… Their last match nearly cost Zoro his life."

Sanji held in a breath. That's it. This guy was a lead. If only he could get a name…

A tap on the glass startled both of them. Sanji turned to see his grumpy old man frowning at him from behind the glass. Damnit, he was so close.

"Looks like my ride's here," he mumbled, before turning back to Koshiro.

"I guess I better go."

Koshiro bowed his head. "Thank you for dropping by."

"I'll probably be back soon anyway," said Sanji, before leaving the room.

Zeff crossed his arms. "Don't tell me you were thinking of running off again, you little shrimp."

Sanji rolled his eyes. "Relax, I was just saying goodbye."

The old man's face softened at that. He glanced back into the room through the window.

"Someone you know?"

Sanji shrugged. "Sort of. Uh… It's a little complicated."

Zeff raised a brow. "Complicated?"

Sanji narrowed his eyes at him. "Whatever you're thinking of, it's not that. I'll just go grab my stuff. Stay here."

Relief washed over Sanji along with the warmth and scent of home as he entered the flat. Zeff cooked him lunch, but left him soon after to tend to the restaurant downstairs.

Sanji sat on the couch, spacing out for a good few minutes. Now that he was home, everything in his body sagged and begged for rest and sleep. But did he dare? He hadn't seen the bloodied man since they left the hospital, and the only other spectre he could feel was his mother. With a sigh, Sanji moved to his bedroom and collapsed on top of his bed. He might as well risk it.

He must've nodded off for just a few minutes, when he felt water drop on his cheeks. Sanji opened his eyes, blearily looking about his empty room. He moved a hand to his face, feeling the wetness on his skin. He inspected his hand. Blood smeared across his fingertips.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Sanji looked up. The bloodied man hung on his ceiling, pinned up by broken blades. Red seeped across the white paint, coating everything.

A knock resounded on the door.

Sanji shuddered awake. Cold sweat clung his clothes to his skin, as he gasped for breath. He glanced up at his plain ceiling. Nothing there. Moving a hand across his cheek, Sanji found it dry.

Another knock on the door grounded Sanji's mind firmly in reality. How long had he been asleep for? As he pushed himself out of bed with shaky arms and wobbled as he stood, Sanji thought 'clearly, not long enough'.

His mood lightened though, as he opened the front door and was greeted with the beautiful and radiant presence of Nami.

She beamed at him, mouth open as though she were about to say something, but her face quickly fell to a frown.

"Sorry, Did I wake you?" she said. Sanji didn't even want to know how bad he looked.

"It's fine," he answered, running a hand through his hair. "It's always a pleasure to be woken up by you, my lovely mellorine."

Nami hummed uncertainly, and Sanji decided to change the topic swiftly.

"Come in!" He said, gesturing with a flourish and opening the door wide for her. "Have you eaten? Would you like some tea? Coffee? Juice?"

Nami laughed. "I'm fine. Actually, I came here because I found some things."

Sanji watched as she sat on the couch and spilled the contents of a paper bag on to the coffee table. She fanned out sheets and sheets of paper, some of which were actual newspapers, others were print outs and photocopies. Nami picked up a sheet, briefly glanced over it and passed it to Sanji.

It was a photocopy. The headline blurted out '1 DEAD 3 OTHERS INJURED IN BOATING ACCIDENT', so Sanji's eyes wandered further down the page, to corner that Nami had circled with an orange marker.

'_Teenage boy found in woods_'. Sanji skimmed through the small excerpt.

'_The body of a sixteen year old was found in Upper Yard on Thursday morning. Discovered by two Hikers, who thought the boy to be dead. Police and emergency team were called onto the scene to find that the teen was still alive and was rushed to hospital. The teen was later identified to be Roronoa Zoro, a young, aspiring athlete who gained recently gained a name for himself after becoming Champion of last year's Logue Town Martial Arts Tournament. Police are investigating the circumstances of the incident._'

Sanji continued to stare at the final sentence. He flipped the page over to find there was nothing on the other side.

"That's it?" he asked.

Nami nodded. "All the other papers that covered the story pretty much say the same thing. Not many followed the story as it developed, and the ones that did, only updated with Zoro's current state of coma at the hospital."

She flicked through several other papers and pulled out an actual page taken from an issue of The Transponder.

"This paper does name the hikers though. Masira and Shoujou. They're pretty easy to get a hold of," said Nami. She held up a small strip of paper with a phone number on.

"I was thinking we could go and ask them for a witness account. Maybe they can even show us the spot where they found him."

Sanji nodded, his eyes tracing over the article in his hand. _Logue Town Martial Arts Tournament_.

"I sort of got a lead too," he said. "From Koshiro, the old guy looking after Zoro. And this newspaper kind of backs that up. Zoro's a swordsman, a professional martial artist. There's this one guy that's kind of like Zoro's rival. Maybe we can find something out from him. He could've even been the guy who did it."

Nami's eyes widened. "That's a pretty big clue. But if the police have let him slip then he may not be the guy… Still, it's worth a shot. What's his name?"

Sanji shook his head. "I never got it. But maybe we can find out more about this tournament and the people that took part in it."

With a hum and a nod, Nami reached for her phone, but paused and glanced up at Sanji.

"Um… Would you mind if I dragged Luffy into this? He's a bit of a kung-fu geek, so he'd probably know something about the tournament."

Sanji stared at the phone in Nami's hand. He'd rather not get any more friends involved in this than necessary…

"If you can ask him without getting his interest piqued, then yeah. We'll need all the leads we can get."

Nami glanced off to the side in thought, before typing out a message on her phone. Sanji picked up the strip of paper with the phone number on. He paused to glance at all of the papers, all of the research and time and effort she'd put into getting this information.

"Thanks," he said, which had her looking up from her phone mid text. "For helping me out. I guess I owe you a lot."

Nami laughed and slapped his arm playfully. "I'm just glad you're finally accepting it."

Sanji scrunched his brows. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, then gestured to the paper in his hand. "Want me to call them up?"

"I'll do that," said Sanji, getting up to find his phone. "You got any plans tomorrow?"

She shook her head.

"I'll see if I can get them to meet us then. I might need a ride."


	9. Chapter 9

In retrospect, hiking was the last thing Sanji wanted to do, having had no more than an hour's sleep for the past few nights. They'd only been trekking through the foliage of Upper Yard for a few minutes and he was already flagging.

Nami put a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?"

Sanji swallowed, trying to even out his breathing. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Not far away now," spoke a gravelly voice, belonging to Masira.

Shoujou laughed, a dry and wheezing sound. "Tired already? Kids these days, not enough energy."

Sanji glared at the two hikers walking ahead of them. He began to doubt that they were going to be of any help at all.

After meeting them at a cafe at the edge of the city, Masira and Shoujou drove them to Upper Yard and lead them deeper into the forest. Sanji wasn't sure how they managed to know their way amongst the trees. Some kind of built in hiking satnav or something. He'd already lost his sense of bearing after the road disappeared from view. All the while, the two hikers filled the silence with their guffaws and wheezing laughter and stories of other hikes they'd been on.

Masira and Shoujou were brothers. Sanji had never seen siblings who looked so different from each other. Masira had stockier upper body build, that narrowed down to a tiny waist He could almost fit into a perfect triangle. But Shoujou was more pear-shaped, and chose to dye his hair a vibrant lime green. Just like a certain spectre that Sanji could think of.

Despite these differences, the two brothers closely resembled a pair of gorillas, and that thought alone was enough to satisfy Sanji's urge to insult them.

"Tell us again how you found the body," said Nami, once they got moving again.

"Yes, yes, but don't expect me to remember much," replied Masira. "This was so long ago. I've seen plenty of other dead bodies since!"

Shoujou snickered. "Yes, but I remember it as clear as day. It was horrible. You never forget a sight like that."

"And to think he was still alive!"

"When did you find him?" Sanji asked, cutting them off before they could ramble on again.

Masira frowned. "Just last year, like I said."

"No, idiot," Shoujou slapped him at the back of his head. "He wants specifics."

The green-haired hiker brother slowed his pace so that he walked beside Nami and Sanji.

"It was a morning just like this," Shoujou continued to explain. "We were actually scaling the cliff side."

"Cliff?" Sanji exclaimed.

"You may as well just tell 'em when we get there," Masira interrupted. "It'll be better if we show you."

"We'll show you when we get there," Shoujou corrected. "But I can tell you more. We were scaling the cliff side, and I just looked down momentarily and I thought I could see something through the trees."

"Uh, I was the one who saw him first."

"You saw him and thought he was a dead bear! I was the one who identified his humanity and told us to get down to him as soon as possible!"

"I still saw him first!"

Sanji sighed as the pair of them walked ahead, bickering and squabbling. Nami leaned closer to him.

"I'm starting to get a head ache with these two," she whispered.

Sanji nodded. "I just hope dragging us all the way out here is worth something…"

"Oh! We're here," Masira suddenly exclaimed, as their bickering died down.

Sanji and Nami caught up to them. They stopped at a small opening, the trees thinned around them. As Sanji glanced up above the tree line, he saw the cliff looming over them. It was high, probably a good few stories, but small enough that just the top peeked up over the edge of the forest.

"This is where he was," said Shoujou, calling their attention to a spot on the ground. "Lying face down in a puddle of his own blood, all cut up, it was horrible."

"We were just coming down over there," added Masira, gesturing to the side of the cliff face visible over the tree line. "I looked down and saw something through the trees."

"I noticed it was a body," said Shoujou, glaring at his brother. "We scaled down as fast as we could. I called the emergency services on our way down."

"How did you know he was still alive?" asked Sanji.

"We didn't!" Masira exclaimed, eyes wide. "When I got to him, saw all the blood and the broken branches, I thought he must've flung himself off the cliff and died."

Shoujou tapped the backpack strapped behind him. "We always bring first aid kits with us on our hikes. I was still on the phone to the emergency team, so Masira treated him."

"I tried waking him but he wasn't responding," said Masira. "So I checked for a pulse. I couldn't believe he was still alive. I tried to patch up his wounds as best as I could, until the rescue copter came."

Nami frowned. "You said you thought he must've fallen from the cliff. Then… What about his wounds?"

"That's what I said!" said Shoujou. "There's no way he could've gotten that cut up from the trees. I told you, Masira. Someone tried to murder that poor boy."

"What kind of human could've done that?" Masira turned to Nami. "You don't understand, the guy was covered in slashes. Like something with huge claws attacked him! It must've been a forest monster."

Shoujou made a gagging sound. "Monster? Now you're just being ridiculous."

"Did you notice anyone else around?" asked Nami, cutting them off before they could start bickering again. "Or did you see anything strange?"

"No," said Shoujou, frowning. "To be honest, he looked like he'd been there for a while before we came. The blood was all dry and he was pale as a sheet."

"There weren't any tracks," added Masira. "That's why I thought he must've fallen from the top of the cliff."

Nami turned to Sanji. "What do you think?"

Sanji hummed. As soon as the brothers started talking about the body, he'd tuned them out. He already knew what Zoro looked like, his spectre retained the condition of his physical body before he went under the coma. Instead, Sanji inspected the area they were in.

He should've expected there to be nothing, the incident did happen a year ago. There was no way there would have been anything else around. But he still felt disappointed at finding nothing at all. Sanji glanced up at the cliff face again.

"You guys came from the top of the cliff?" he asked the brothers.

Masira and Shoujou nodded.

"There's a dirt path that comes off the main road and leads right to the top," said Masira. "We parked at the roadside. We were planning on hiking up to the cliff, abseiling down, then hiking back to our car."

"Can you take us up there?"

The brothers exchanged glances before nodding in unison.

"It'll be easier if we drove there," said Shoujou. "Let's get back to the car."

As they left the clearing, Nami leaned over to Sanji again.

"What's on your mind?" she asked.

Sanji glanced over his shoulder at the clearing before it disappeared behind a throng of trees.

"Masira was probably partly right about Zoro falling from the cliff," he voiced his thoughts low enough that only Nami could hear. "I don't know… It just doesn't add up how he ended up at the bottom of the cliff, this far into the woods, unless he came from up there."

"Or, unless he was chased here," said Nami. "What the hell would he be doing in the woods alone, anyway?"

Sanji shrugged, thinking back to his previous conversations with Koshiro.

"Maybe…" Sanji began. "Maybe he called someone out here for a duel?"

"A duel?" Nami snorted. "What, for real?"

"Koshiro said Zoro was very devoted to swordsmanship. He said he almost died in his last match at a tournament. What if... He called someone out here- no. What if someone called him out here for a duel and left him for dead?"

He stopped as a thought struck him. "What if they fought at the top of the cliff? What if the fight went wrong, and his attacker thought he'd killed him. So to get rid of the body, he threw Zoro off the cliff?"

Nami scrunched her brows. "All that sounds incredibly unlikely."

"Hey, you two better not lag behind too much and get lost!" Shoujou called out to them.

Sanji started following them again. "I guess we'll find out when we get to the cliff top."

It was past midday by the time they pulled up on the cliff top. Sanji frowned as he saw two other cars parked there already. A couple of dog-walkers left one of the cars and proceeded to walk down the dirt path. A small family of five were having a picnic on the other side of the cliff top beside their car. The picnic reminded Sanji about lunch, and he suggested that they take a break for a while before continuing with investigations. He was glad he'd brought extra food for the hikers now.

"Mm! Hey, kid, you made this?" Masira spoke through a mouthful of fried rice. "This is good!"

Shoujou couldn't even express his compliments but it was written clearly on his face as he gobbled down Sanji's lunch.

Nami laughed, as she politely nibbled on her salad. Talk about a rose between two thorns.

"Sanji's training to be a chef," she said. "His father owns a restaurant."

"Just training?" Shoujou's brows rose, nearly touching his hairline. "You're practically a chef already!"

Sanji shrugged off the compliments and got out of the car, deciding to stretch his legs. He walked around for a bit, lighting up a cigarette and taking in a comforting drag of nicotine. Glancing at the ground, Sanji noticed that the dirt of the cliff top was covered in tyre tracks and footprints.

"Do a lot of people come up here often?" he called back to the hikers in their car.

Masira grunted as he swallowed his mouthful of food this time before answering.

"I guess so. Not very often, though. There's not much to do up here but camp out and hike."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," said Shoujou, and the pair were off guffawing again.

Sanji went back to observing his surroundings. It was the perfect place for a crime, though. Far from the city, not visited often, no surveillance cameras around at all.

He walked to the edge of the cliff, a little taken aback that there wasn't a protective fence around it at least. But he supposed that was down to the fact that nobody really came up here.

"Great view, huh?" said Nami, appearing beside him with her container of salad in hand.

Sanji glanced out at the rolling hills full of evergreen trees that stretched out before them like an unmoving ocean. He hummed in agreement before peering down over the edge of the cliff.

"Long way down though," he said.

"Hey! Careful! Don't slip off the edge now!" Shoujou called over to them from the car.

Nami waved back. "We'll be fine!"

She edged a little closer. "I can't believe he survived getting slashed _and_ thrown off the cliff."

"If his spectre is able to haunt me while he's still technically alive, then I wouldn't put anything past him anymore," said Sanji. He moved back from the cliff edge so that Nami would too.

"So what's next, detective Sanji?" she chirped, throwing a mock salute.

Sanji cracked a smile, but it faltered on his face.

"I don't know… I wasn't sure what to expect coming up here. I mean, I knew it wasn't likely we'd find anything. But it kinda sucks to see there's actually _nothing_ here."

They fell silent, Nami quietly munching away at spinach leaves while Sanji smoked.

"Sanji," she began, her voice rolling out in the way it does when she's about to suggest something the other person might not like. Sanji braced himself.

"Have you ever tried talking to the spectres before? Not just Zoro, other ones."

Sanji shook his head. "It's not like it's easy… We live on two separate places of existence. Even if I tried to communicate, it's distorted. Like… Like calling someone on a low phone signal, or talking to someone who can only speak a different language, you know?"

"Well, I was just thinking… If we can't get a lived eyewitness account, why not try a dead one? Are there any spectres around now? What if they were there that night Zoro got attacked? Maybe they could tell you something?"

He'd never thought of doing that before. Sanji glanced around at the bare cliff top. The family were starting to pack up their picnic. Apart from them, he couldn't see or sense anyone else nearby. But spectres were funny like that. Sometimes he'd have to get close to be able to see them.

"I don't know," he said. "But I guess it's worth a shot."

Nami smiled. "Alright. I'll leave you to it. I'll go ask the gorilla brothers and see what else I can find out about this place."

Sanji watched her walk back to the car, before he decided to circle the edge of the cliff. All the while, his eyes trailed along the trees tops swaying in the breeze below.

He stopped when he got to the spot where he thought Zoro fell from. There were less trees at the bottom, and as Sanji leaned closer to the edge, he could see the patches of grass and dirt between the branches. He stepped away from the edge. Zoro definitely fell from the cliff, that much Sanji was certain of. But what happened that night? Did he fall, or did someone push him off? How did he get cut up so bad?

The rev of a car engine had Sanji spinning back to the others. But Nami and the hiker brothers were still eating in the car with the doors wide open. He glanced at the family, still packing up their picnic and gathering their energetic children. Sanji frowned. Was there another car coming up the drive?

He took a step back when something cracked under his shoe. Lifting his foot, he saw something glinting under the rocks and dirt. The car engine sounded again, and a piercing headache split into Sanji's skull.

Pressing a hand to his temple, he looked about. Nothing. No new cars, and the family had just finished folding up their picnic blanket into the boot. Sanji leaned over on the ground and picked up the glinting object, holding it up in the air. It was an earring, long and golden, twitching in Sanji's shaky grasp.

The revving got louder. Sanji looked up and saw a car pull up at the edge of the cliff just before him. He squinted, the headache making the edges of his vision blurry. Why did this car park so close to him? Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that nobody else seemed to notice the vehicle.

"_Just hurry up and get rid of him!_"

Sanji glanced back at the car. The doors opened, and three shapes got out. One of them passed through Sanji, sending a chill down the blonde's spine. Sanji hunched over, shaking as the air wrapped him in a cold embrace. This was another spectre...

"_Help me out here! He's heavy!_"

Gasping for breath, Sanji moved forward and reached for the car. His fingers passed through it, and he whipped back his hand with a small cry. It was so cold, the touch felt like a zap of static shot through his body.

He heard the boot open and saw the shapes crowded around the back of the car. What was happening? Sanji moved approached them, watching as all three shapes pulled out another from the back of the car.

"_Is he even still alive?"_

"_Who cares? He won't be for long_."

Sanji saw something glinting fall from the mass of blurred shapes that moved to the cliff edge. When he looked at the ground, there was nothing. But the gold earing slipped from his grasp and landed in the dirt.

Something pushed him from behind and he staggered forward, closer to the shapes huddled along the edge.

"_On three!_"

Sanji watched as something parted from the three shapes, plummeting slowly towards the trees below. All the blood drained from Sanji's head, leaving a ringing in his ear. As he squinted, the blurry spectre that fell from the cliff sharpened. A young man with green hair, cut up and covered in blood.

"SANJI!"

A shrill cry came from Nami. Sanji turned around. Dark, void-like eyes stared at him through a veil of red. Sanji startled and staggered backwards. The bloodied man reached out, wet fingers tapping at his shoulder.

Sanji blacked out, the ground disappearing from beneath his feet.

"Sanji! Sanji!"

He came to. The weight of gravity pulled on his legs. Sanji's eyes flickered opened and he glanced down at the expanse of forest below him. His stomach lurched and he clung to the arm the gripped tight across his chest.

"It's alright, kid," Masira's voice grunted behind him. "I got you."

"Pull him up!" Shoujou called from the cliff top. "Masira!"

Another set of hands grabbed at the shoulders of Sanji's jacket and he felt himself being lifted and dropped onto the ground. Panting, Sanji scooted backwards away from the edge of the cliff, as Masira flung himself up over the ledge beside him.

"Oh my god, Sanji," Nami knelt down on the ground beside him fear painted in her wide eyes.

"Didn't I tell you?" said Shoujou. "I told you to watch you step!"

Masira waved a hand at his brother, before turning and clasping a heavy hand on Sanji's shoulder.

"You alright, kid?"

The air still struggled to squeeze into Sanji's lungs. Beads of cold sweat dripped down his face. His arms were shaking, struggling to hold himself up. But he nodded anyway, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

Footsteps padded towards them, and Sanji turned to see the father from the family approach them.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

Sanji couldn't look up to meet his eyes. Masira got up and dusted his hands off on the knees of his trousers.

"Yeah, we're good. Don't worry."

Shoujou sighed, extending a hand to Sanji.

"C'mon. We better head back into town."

Sanji batted his hand away and moved to pick himself up from the ground.

His head spun, but he managed to stay upright. Nami's hand found his arm.

"Are you sure, you're alright?" she asked.

Sanji only nodded again, not trusting his voice enough to speak right now. Masira and Shoujou walked towards the car, distracting the concerned family that now watched on from a distance.

Nami walked ahead, but stayed close and waited for Sanji to catch up. He was stooped over the ground, squinting at the dirt. The earring. It glinted up at him through the dirt where it slipped from his hand.

He bent down and pinched the gold between his fingers again. It was solid. At least this wasn't a spectre. But what was that vision he'd witnessed before he slipped from the cliff?

"Sanji?" Nami's concerned voice pierced the veil of his thoughts.

He looked up and forced a wobble of smile on his face, pocketing the earring before following Nami back to the car.


	10. Chapter 10

Sanji fell asleep on the drive back into town. He awoke when the car came to a stop and the hum of the engine cut off. But he didn't move or open his eyes, wishing to stay asleep for a little longer.

"He gonna be okay?" he heard Shoujou's voice ask quietly.

"He'll be fine," Nami spoke from beside him. "Sorry, he hasn't been getting much sleep lately…"

"That why he passed out?" asked Masira through a jingle of keys.

Shoujou snorted. "Kids these day. Too much internet and not enough out doors or sleep."

"You know we shouldn't have taken him hiking if he wasn't a hundred percent."

"I know, I'm sorry," replied Nami. "But we really need to find out everything we can about Zoro… They were close, you know. Almost like brothers…"

Silence drew out in the car. Sanji resisted the urge to smile. Next to Usopp, Nami was pretty crafty with her lies, and hers were a lot more believable too. Shoujou sighed and Sanji heard a door pop open.

"Alright, but the kid should really rest," said Shoujou. "You don't want this kind of thing happening again. He could've died back there."

"Which is exactly why I don't want to wake him up now," said Nami. "Is it alright if we leave him the car until he wakes up? God knows he needs it."

No reply, but Sanji heard another door click open.

"We'll be in the café," said Masira. "Come inside when you're ready."

"Thanks."

Sanji waited for the doors to shut before he opened his eyes. He was leaning on the window, glancing out at quiet road outside of the café. The sun was already on its way to the horizon, the sky turning a golden colour after it.

He yawned, stretching his stiff muscles and rubbing his eyes.

"Ah, sorry. Did they wake you?" said Nami.

Sanji shook his head. "Was already awake," he spoke, his voice coming out groggy and the back of his mouth was dry.

"How are you feeling?"

He took the time to actually think over this. Truth was, his body just ached and pined for sleep more after his short nap. But he smiled at her.

"I'm better, thanks."

They were quiet after that, watching Masira and Shoujou converse with the barista in the café. They could almost hear their loud laughter from the car.

"Sanji," Nami began. "What happened up on the cliff… Was it Zoro's spectre again?"

Sanji glanced. "You saw him?"

She shook her head. "I didn't see anything. One minute, you were walking along the edge of the cliff, the next you were teetering off the edge. God, I can't even… I'm just glad Masira got to you in time."

Sanji winced as she ran a hand over her hair, a worried frown still plastered on her face.

"Sorry," he apologized meekly. "I didn't mean to make you worry…"

"What the hell happened?"

Sanji fell quiet as he tried to recall the spectres he'd seen. But the longer he didn't answer the more worried Nami looked and all Sanji wanted to do was wipe the fear from her face.

"I saw something," he answered, frowning as he tried to make sense of the memories himself. "I… can't really explain it… They were like spectres, but- I don't know."

"You said Zoro appeared to you again," Nami prompted.

Sanji gave her a curt nod. "When I heard you yell, I turned around and he was right there, reaching for me."

He shuddered, folding his arms across his chest to fight of the unexpected chill that rendered through his skin.

Nami's frown deepened. "Wait... Don't… Don't tell me pushed you…"

Sanji didn't answer, and her jaw dropped in horror.

"He led you to the edge of the cliff and pushed you?" she exclaimed.

Sanji frantically shook his head.

"No, no. It's not that… It can't be. It was more like…"

His voice trailed off as the vision came back to him. The car. The three shapes. Those voices. The body that was flung off the cliff.

He felt a lump in his pocket, and reached in to pull out the earring, holding the glimmering object in the palm of his hand. He remembered seeing it fall from the spectres as they moved to the cliff edge.

"I saw how it happened," said Sanji. "Zoro showed me how it happened. He didn't fight anyone on the cliff top, he was already passed out when they brought him there. They were trying to get rid of the body, so they threw him from the top of the cliff."

Sanji gave a short breath, feeling the satisfying click in his brain as the pieces moved into place in his mind. He glanced at Nami, but all she returned was a look of horror.

"He tried to kill you!" She said, her voice a shrill whisper.

"He showed me what happened."

"By pushing you off the edge of the cliff?"

"He didn't push me."

"You said he appeared when you turned around, and then reached for you. He pushed you!"

Sanji shook his head. "Why do you believe me anyway? For all you know, I could be making this shit up."

"And what, you jumped off the cliff by yourself instead?"

"I wouldn't do that," Sanji paused when he met Nami's stern glance. He faltered. Her eyes were welling up. Was she really that worried about him?

With a groan and a harsh sigh she left the car.

"I sure hope not," she grumbled, slamming the door shut after her.

Sanji scrambled to get out of the car after her.

"Nami!" he called out, catching her by the front of the car. "See, this is why I didn't want you involved. You're worrying about me."

"Of course I'm worried about you," she growled. "What do you think would've happened if Masira didn't catch you? And I was the one that got us to meet with these guys in the first place!"

_Ah, she feels guilty_, thought Sanji.

"Look, I'm fine now, aren't I?" he reassured her. "Zoro's not a threat to me. He wasn't trying to push me off the cliff, he was showing me what happened."

"Oh yeah, and what a coincidence that he appeared to you and made you stumble off the edge while he was doing so. I mean, couldn't he have just done all that without the whole cliff thing?"

Sanji shook his head. "It's not that simple. I wish it was, but it's not. I've already told you, communication is difficult between people and spectres."

He thought back to his mother back in their flat. The way she'd knock over his deodorant can to get his attention.

"Sometimes spectres have to resort to different methods to get their point across," he explained. The revelation of it only dawned on him now, but it all made sense. This was why strange things happened all the time. It was spectres trying to reach out to people who don't see.

Nami was still looking at him like he'd grown an extra head.

"Okay, you need a better way of communicating with these spectres," she said, making her way to the café entrance. "If they have to nearly kill you each time they try to talk to you, it's not worth risking your life for."

She entered the café, the door swinging shut behind her. Sanji stared at his reflection on the glass doors before him. Dark bags under his eyes, pale skin, stubble and frazzled hair. Sanji looked like shit. The bruises that had decorated his face after the fight were fading now, but that didn't help his appearance anymore. He really needed sleep.

"Séance."

Sanji paused half way through lifting a steaming mug of tea to his lips. He stared at Robin sat opposite him, glancing at him with a knowing smile and a mug of coffee held in her hands, resting against her crossed knees.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, blinking in confusion.

"A séance," Robin repeated herself. "You know, when people try to communicate with spirits."

Sanji frowned, wondering why she brought that up out of the blue. Then something clicked in his head and he glowered at his tea.

"Nami told you…"

"On the contrary, Nami hasn't told me anything," she said, and Sanji felt a bit of relief. He knew Nami wasn't one to gossip, but he felt guilty for jumping to conclusions anyway.

"It doesn't take a genius to know you're being 'haunted', Sanji."

He narrowed his eyes at Robin, who sipped her coffee innocently. She always had such an acute sense of intuition that Sanji wouldn't be surprised if she came out and said that she was a genuine telepath, or that she could see spectres too.

"Deteriorating health due to insomnia, it's clear you've got a heavy burden on your mind."

_You have no idea_, was what Sanji wanted to say. But he would die before he caught himself lacking manners around a lady.

"I'm sorry, but I really have no idea what any of that has to do with séances, Miss Robin."

"Clearly _something_ isn't letting you sleep," said Robin. "And it's eating away at you from the inside. I have a friend who's known for her supernatural capabilities."

"Oh really?" Sanji couldn't help the sarcasm from slipping this time. He's met plenty of kooks before, all claiming to be 'seers' or psychics and mediums. More often that not, they were all just fakes.

Robin smiled and nodded.

"Sharley is very talented," she continued. "Not just a regular medium, she's also a person of intellect. I attended one of her séances last month. It was quite an interesting experience. She was reconnecting a gentleman with his uncle who had recently passed away, so that he could have proper closure."

Sanji snorted but disguised it under a cough. He really must be loosing it if he was acting rude in front of Robin.

"And did it work?" he questioned.

Robin nodded. "It was an emotional exchange. But he left the séance with a lighter heart."

Sanji grumbled, casting his glance around the café and sipping his tea. He heard Robin shuffle around in her handbag. She slipped a small card across the table towards him.

"We could turn it into a social event," she added. "Bring the others with us. Nami too."

Sanji snorted. No, he wasn't getting anyone else involved in his shit. He glanced at the plain white card on the table, reading the simple blue lettering printed across the top.

_Madam Sharley_.

"Think about it," said Robin, returning to her coffee. "Perhaps its all you need to get rid of these 'spirits' that are keeping you up at night."

Sanji stared at the card on the table. Like hell these séances actually worked. He knew it was hard to speak to spectres. It was an impassable gorge. But… That vision on the cliff top. Was that really Zoro giving him a hint? Had he gotten through to the spectre after all, and convinced him he was going to help? His phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Excuse me," he said, pulling it out and checking his messages.

It was Nami. He glanced up at Robin.

"Do you mind?"

She smiled and shook her head. Sanji opened up the message

'_Hey, are you about? I'm with Luffy now and he's got some good stuff on the tournaments.'_

Sanji tapped out a reply, before pocketing his phone and turning to Robin.

"I think I'm about to go meet up with Luffy and Nami. Care to join us?"

Robin hummed, pulling out a book from her bag.

"I think I'll sit here a bit longer," she replied, cracking open the heavy tome and slipping her purple bookmark to the back of the book.

Sanji nodded and downed his tea. "I'm sorry to leave you so abruptly, my dear."

She gave him a sincere smile. "Not at all. Oh, and Sanji."

Robin tapped at the card on the table. Sanji tried his best to hide his sigh. He supposed there was no harm in keeping the card, at least. He slipped it in his pocket before bidding his last flowery goodbyes to Robin and leaving he café.

Nami was hanging out at Luffy's place nearby. The Portgas brothers lived in an inner city flat above a store, and they shared the small space with three other people. Thankfully, all those people were in their twenties and out working for most of the day, just like Luffy's older brother.

Or so Sanji thought, until he entered the flat to find Ace passed out on the couch and Luffy and Nami sat on the floor in front of Luffy's banged up laptop.

"Sanji! You're here! Did you bring food?" Luffy greeted him loudly.

Sanji glanced from him, to Nami, to Ace snoring away on the couch.

"Um…"

Luffy waved a hand. "Oh, don't mind Ace. He's a heavy sleeper. Worked 'til late last night so he's not gonna be up any time soon."

Luffy sat back down on the floor, turning his laptop towards him. Sanji noticed a pile of unlabelled DVDs on the floor beside them. Luffy grabbed one a cracked it open.

Nami pulled on the sleeve of Sanji's jacket, gesturing for him to join them on the floor.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, once he sat down.

Sanji smiled. "Better now that I'm with the beautiful, Miss Nami."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, at least we know you're still a flirt, even when running on gear zero."

They watched as Luffy inserted a DVD into his laptop and waited for the slow thing to whir to life.

"You'll never guess what these are," said Nami, waving the empty case in the air.

"It's Luffy's porn stash, and we're about to delve into the fucked up mind of our glutinous friend's weird food fetish."

Nami gawked at him and Luffy burst out in raucous laughter at the statement.

"Ugh, you guys are disgusting."

"Ah, speaking of food," Luffy got up suddenly, clambering over the couch and his sleeping brother and dashing into the kitchen space. Ace merely groaned and turned over, snoring away, unaware.

Sanji turned back to the laptop now that the DVD player finally loaded. The screen blacked out, followed by the usual white text explaining copyright, then a circular logo spun unto the screen, accompanied by an 80's-esque rhythm.

"I was texting Luffy about this martial arts thing," Nami spoke over the intro. "He actually knows the guy who organizes the tournaments in the city."

"Yeah, Shanks is awesome!" Luffy appeared again, dumping bags of crisps and snacks on the floor in front of them. "He likes to come visit us sometimes, but he's out of the country at the moment. I have the key to his office though, so I took some DVDs."

"Took?" Sanji asked, raising a brow at the two of them. He had a sneaking suspicion Nami had some involvement in that.

Luffy shook his head, stuffing his face already. "Shanks doesn't mind. He says he doesn't know why they keep the records anyway."

"These clips are from last year's tournament," said Nami, clicking on one of the boxes. Two fighters began to spar on the screen. "I was thinking maybe we could find something about Zoro. Maybe even find his killer."

Sanji nodded, then he realised she's just gone out and openly explained what they were up to. He glanced over at Luffy, who was troffing a bag of crisps, before glancing over his shoulder at Ace still in deep sleep. Sanji supposed if there was anyone he and Nami could talk about their secret detective work around, it would be the clueless Portgas brothers.

Cheering erupted from the laptop and Sanji turned to see the fight was over.

"Go back to the menu screen again," he said.

Nami clicked on the screen. A still frame full of small squares flickered up. Sanji squinted at each still.

"That one," he said, pointing to a square that pictured two swordfighters. One of them had striking green hair.

The video played. Two men squared off, both decked in full Kendo gear. One of them wielded two bamboo swords. Even Luffy's snacking slowed, as the three of them watched the fierce exchange between the two fighters. Swords hitting swords in rapid clacking that echoed across the gym. People cheered as points racked up.

Everything happened so fast, Sanji couldn't even keep up with the blur of the bamboo swords that flew through the air. Soon, a bell dinged and the two fighters parted as the cheers and clapping sounded through the room.

'_Winner: Zoro Roronoa' _announced the referee, approaching the man with two swords. He stripped off his helmet, vibrant green hair sticking him out from the crowd. Zoro was smiling. He bowed to his opponent, then walked off screen.

"Wow, he's good," Luffy spoke through a mouthful of food.

"Is there anymore of him?" asked Sanji.

Nami clicked back to the main menu and selected another video. It was another sword fight, this time both fighters had two swords. After an exchange of blows, the fight was over. Zoro won again.

Nami flicked through several more videos, most of them sword fights, and all of those matches Zoro won.

"This guy's good," she voiced her thoughts. Sanji hummed and nodded.

He was completely captivated by it all. Zoro beat down all the others without even breaking a sweat. He didn't know much about sword fighting, or any martial art for that matter. But Sanji could see Zoro was strong, and trained to his utmost best. How the hell did a guy like him get jumped and ended up in a coma?

"Ah, I remember this guy."

Sanji startled and glanced over his shoulder to find Ace awake, leaning up on one arm and watching the video over their shoulders.

"Oh, yeah, you got to go to the tournament didn't you?" said Luffy, pouting. "No fair. I was in school."

Ace laughed and ruffled his brother's hair. "You win some you loose some."

Cheering interrupted him. Sanji turned to see the match finished, with Zoro winning again.

"This kid was crazy," said Ace. "Zoro, yeah, that was his name. Shanks kept calling he was a prodigy. Been training since he was little apparently. It shows. He beat all the other contenders, and they were all much older than him. Plus he's already developed his own technique. He gave a demo of it, you seen it yet?"

Sanji shook his head. Ace shoved Luffy with his foot, causing the younger Portgas brother to grumble and punch him in the shin.

"Show them the demos," he prompted, grabbing the bag of crisps from Luffy's arms and stuffing his face too.

Luffy frowned but quickly cracked open another DVD case and slotted it in after the other ejected. Nami flicked through the menu. At least the clips were labelled this time, and she clicked on one titled: 'Roronoa. Santoryu'

The clip played, showing a man in referee uniform talking to Zoro. They parted, the man reaching for his mic, while Zoro walked to the centre of the gym and knelt on the wooden floors. Three swords strapped onto the cloth belt around his waist.

'_Zoro Roronoa, demonstrating his santoryu, three sword technique_' announced the referee.

There was a short round of applause. Sanji watched as Zoro drew one sword, then another. The young man moved through a few forms with both swords, his movements fluid and precise. Then, taking a short bow, he bit one sword at the hilt, between his jaws, and pulled out a third sword.

"Woaah!" whispered Luffy, as all four of them watched on in awe.

Zoro performed a completely different set of movements, each one adapted to suit his three sword technique.

"Is… Is that even allowed?" asked Nami.

Ace chuckled. "Not in a fair fight, no. Since its not an accepted style yet. But they let him demonstrate it."

"That's so cool," Luffy added again.

Their words were a distant din in Sanji's mind. His eyes fully trailed on the video of Zoro, dancing fluidly, three blades circling him and glinting like steel petals in the wind.

He squinted. Something glinted from Zoro's ear at each movement, and as Sanji looked closer, he noticed three golden earrings jingling against each other along Zoro's left ear. He remembered the earring he discovered on the cliff top. Was that really Zoro's?

As soon as it began, Zoro's demonstration ended followed by a flurry of clapping. He sheathed all three swords and bowed before walking off shot.

'_Zoro Roronoa, a student of Kuina Dojo, here at out very city._'

"Wait, pause it," said Sanji. Nami's hand shot out and the video stilled. "Go back a bit."

Nami rewound it to the part where Zoro sheathed his swords. They played through, with the refree picking up his mic again.

'_Zoro Roronoa, a member of Kuina Dojo, here at out very city._'

"Kuina Dojo?" Sanji asked.

"Oh yeah," said Ace. "The kid actually lives in some dojo down south. Didn't even know we had dojos in Logue Town. Him and his mentor came all the way from Japan to build it."

"It's in the city?"

Ace shrugged. "I think so. Why, you thinking of taking up lessons, blondie?"

"I found it," said Nami. She'd closed the DVD player and opened up Google maps. A glowing blue line spread across a map on the screen, with a yellow pointer hopping up and down near the bottom.

That was quick.

"It's an hour's drive away," said Nami. "But it's just at Montplace. I can get there on my Waver."

Sanji glanced at the time on his phone. It was only three in the afternoon. He'd forgotten how many hours there were in the day now that he wasn't working them away at the Baratie.

"You thinking of going now?" asked Nami. "I could give you a ride."

"I wanna come to!" said Luffy.

Nami slapped him at the back of the head. "I can only carry one other person on the scooter, idiot."

Luffy pouted. "But I wanted to see the swordsman too…"

"Sorry, Luffy," said Sanji, getting up after Nami as they made their way to the door. "You're not gonna find him at the dojo."

"What? Really? How come?"

Sanji just shook his head. "Why don't you come over to the Baratie later?"

At that Luffy's face brightened like a child's on Christmas morning. "Really?"

Sanji laughed. "Yeah, sure. I'll see you later."

He ran down the steps after Nami, and they walked over to her scooter parked along the alley. She was checking the directions on her phone.

"You sure it's okay to promise Luffy food like that?" she asked.

Sanji sighed. "If there's one way to shut a Portgas up, it's to bribe him with food. I'll just have to deal with the consequences later."

He caught the white helmet Nami threw over at him and started to fasten it on his head.

"What exactly are we looking for at the dojo?" She asked, mounting her scooter.

Sanji shrugged. "At this point in time, any lead will do."

He got on after she wheeled the scooter out onto the main road, then held on when she sped off towards the south side of town.


	11. Chapter 11

South of Logue Town was a strange place. The buildings there were either fancy, semi-detached houses with garages big enough to fit two cars, or massive factories and warehouses. A lot of it was grassy plot, fenced up and waiting to be bought.

The sky was turning orange and the chill of dusk clung to the air when they arrived at the dojo. It was practically in the middle of nowhere, but Sanji supposed it was a great place to meditate and train, away from the distractions of life.

Sanji had to wonder if they hadn't accidentally crossed borders into another country. The dojo was built in traditional architecture, with wooden walls and a shale roof that curled at the corners. There were two, or three stories to the place, and a wide but simplistic garden that seemed to stretch around the whole place.

Nami pulled up next to two parked cars on the gravel path outside the building.

Sanji unclasped his helmet. "Looks like there's people here."

Just as he said that, the dojo doors slid open with a dull clatter and a plump man bustled out towards them.

"What are you doing here? You lost?" he grumbled, frowning at the two of them.

"No," answered Sanji. "We came to visit…"

"There's nothing here!" exclaimed the man, cutting Sanji off. "Get out!"

"Excuse me?" said Nami. "We came all the way out here to visit the dojo. What kind of a greeting is that?"

"The dojo's closed!"

Sanji faltered. "It is?"

"Yes, did I fucking stutter? C-L-O-S-E-D, closed! Now get out!"

Nami sneered at him. "That's no way to welcome guests."

Another man appeared at the open doorway and waltzed down the steps to join them at the gravel path. He was tall and lanky, with long grey hair and a strange goatee protruding from the end of his chin. A pair of tinted glasses shielded his eyes.

He rested a hand on his plump friend before taking a flourishing bow at Nami and Sanji.

"I do apologize for your mistreatment. Welcome to Kuina Dojo."

"Mistreatment?" exclaimed Nami. "Your 'guard-dog' practically mauled us."

The grey-haired man smiled. "Unfortunately, he is right. The dojo is closed to visitors."

"We're friends of Koshiro," said Sanji. He noticed how the two men stiffened at the name. "A-actually, more like Zoro's friends really."

"Ah," spoke the grey-haired man. "Then, I suppose, you know about his… condition."

Sanji nodded. "Actually, we were sent here by Koshiro. To pick up some stuff."

The two men exchanged glances.

"You were?" questioned the plump man.

Nami and Sanji nodded in unison.

"Who are you two, anyway?" she asked.

The grey haired man forced a laugh.

"We're also Koshiro's friends," he replied. "We've been asked to look after the dojo while he's looking after Zoro, so I apologize if we came across as defensive. This is Koshiro's treasured home after all."

This time, it was Nami and Sanji's turn to exchange glances.

"Why don't you come inside?" said the grey-haired man. "A friend of Koshiro's is a friend of ours, after all."

They led them through the dojo to a living space around the back. The plump man served them fresh juice in the kitchen, as they asked what exactly it was that Koshiro wanted them to get.

Nami bloomed in her element here. She could side-talk and flip topics smoother and quicker than anyone else Sanji knew. Within minutes, the two men relaxed their guard and began telling them stories of how they'd met Koshiro.

Taking his chance, Sanji excused himself from the table.

"Sorry, uh, where's the bathroom?"

"First door on the left as you go upstairs," answered the plump man, going back to the joke he was telling Nami before.

Sanji nodded and slinked out of the kitchen. He paused at the open training space of the main dojo. It was so quiet. He tried to imagine Zoro, moving through the forms of his three-sword technique out on the wooden floors.

Moving on, Sanji found the stairs and tiptoed up them, the wood creaking under his shoes. He passed the bathroom and crept deeper along the corridor. Some doors were open, and Sanji peered in to one to see a plain bedroom. He glanced into another room and frowned when he found cardboard boxes, some taped up and others half full of clothes or other things.

Glancing back down the hallway to make sure no one was around, Sanji entered the room. He pulled out a black shirt from one of the open boxes and held it up. Were these Zoro's things? Why were they in boxes? Were they in the middle of moving?

Sanji folded the t-shirt back in the box and moved to a smaller one with a lid. Opening it, Sanji found that it was full of DVDs and CDs. Sanji picked up a CD which had a red circle with a yellow 's' drawn on it and an arrow striking upwards through the letter. Flicking it over, Sanji saw the track list was all in Japanese. He rooted through all the other CDs, all of the covers black or red, some with skulls and bones other with grotesque images that made Sanji chuckle and shake his head.

"You wouldn't think you were into Enka with all these other CDs," Sanji muttered to himself, then began to doubt that these were actually Zoro's things.

Nami's shrieking laughter, faintly coming form the kitchen below, snapped him out of his thoughts. Placing the CDs back in the box as neatly as he could, Sanji crept out of the room and made his way along the corridor into another room.

He entered an office. Bookshelves and metal filing cabinets lined the walls, surrounding a simple wooden desk at the centre of the room. It was neat, with only a few papers and envelopes sprawled out on the table. A piece of paper, which held the Japanese flag on the top corner, caught Sanji's eye.

He skimmed through the lengthy words, pausing when he saw Zoro's name.

'_As planned, the Roronoa inheritance will be passed to Mr Roronoa Zoro at his coming of age on the date of November 11, 2011. In the unlikely event that Mr Roronoa will be unable to claim his inheritance, the inheritance will be passed to a next member of kin_.'

Sanji snorted. "All the more reason for you to wake up, moss-head."

He placed the paper neatly back on the table, and turned to observe the bookshelves. A framed picture was mounted on a black frame beside a small, wilted pot plant.

Sanji approached the picture. In the frame was Zoro, much younger, no piercings but still that vibrant green hair. He grinned like a mad man at the camera, his arm around a young girl a bit older than him. She was pulling a face. Several other children surrounded them, and behind them stood two men.

Sanji's brows knotted. One of the men was Koshiro, his hair slicked back, round glasses, looking serious. The man beside him looked incredibly similar, black hair and wearing glasses too and beaming at the camera. Were they related?

The stairs creaked. Footsteps padded on the wooden floors. In panic, Sanji made for the door, nearly bumping into the grey-haired man out on the corridor.

"Oh, uh, s-sorry," Sanji stuttered, laughing nervously. "I guess I got a little lost. Where was the toilet again?"

"You passed it. It was right as you came up the stairs."

"Oh yeah, of course. Heh."

Sanji tried to pass him, but the man placed a thin hand lightly on his shoulder.

"Koshiro never sent you, did he?" said the man. "I think you should forget everything you've seen and leave."

Before Sanji could protest, the man snapped his fingers and his vision blacked out.

"Here, here. I got him water."

"Thank you."

"Oh, he's waking up."

"Sanji? Sanji, can you hear me?"

Sanji opened his eyes, looking up at Nami's beautiful face again. He had his head in her lap, and she dabbed at his temple with a damp cloth.

"Ah, Miss Nami," he answered weakly. "We must stop meeting like this."

Nami sighed. "Yeah, he's fine."

"You okay, kid?" asked the plump man, looming over him with a glass of water. "You passed out in the hallway."

"I… I did?"

"Yeah, you're lucky I came upstairs and found you," said the grey-haired man. "What happened?"

Sanji groaned as he pushed himself to sit up, accepting the water that the plump man gave him.

"I don't remember," he said, rubbing his forehead. He wasn't dizzy, but he felt confused. As though his brain had hit a mental wall.

The grey haired man sighed and turned to Nami. "Your friend looks unwell. Perhaps you should take him home."

She hesitated, glancing at Sanji and back at the grey haired man. But she nodded and, with the help of the two men, got Sanji up on his feet.

They bid their goodbyes to the two strange men at the doorway and walked over to Nami's Waver. Sanji felt as though he'd woken up from an interrupted nap, unsure of the time or the day or what exactly he was doing before.

Nami fiddled with her helmet to stall for time.

"Are you really okay?" she asked Sanji in a low whisper, her eyes casting over his shoulder. "What happened?"

Sanji briefly followed her glance to see the two men still watching them. He shook his head.

"I… really can't remember," he replied. "I was going upstairs then…"

Nothing. Sanji's mind hit that wall again.

"Did you see another spectre?"

"Spectre?"

Nami frowned. "Never mind. Let's go somewhere we can talk first."

She mounted her scooter and revved the engine. Soon they were riding away from the dojo and back into the centre of town again.

"So you found nothing?" asked Nami, as she filled up her scooter with petrol.

Sanji leaned up against the pump, his face set in a scrunched frown ever since they left the dojo.

"No, nothing," he said. "I… don't think so."

Nami scrunched her brows. "You sound really out of it. Are you sure you didn't find anything."

"It's really weird. I… Did I really pass out?"

She nodded. "Was it Zoro again?"

Sanji shook his head. "I think I'd remember seeing him."

The two fell quiet as Nami finished filling up on petrol. Sanji tried his best to recall what happened, but couldn't see anything past getting to the top of the stairs.

"Fuck, maybe this insomnia thing's starting to affect my memory…"

Nami gave him a sympathetic look.

"So we're back to square one, huh?" she replied. "No new leads. We could try contacting all of Zoro's old opponents. Maybe even this Shanks guy. They might know something, and I'm sure Luffy would even introduce us."

Sanji hummed. That all seemed like far too much effort. He shoved his hands in his pocket, fiddling with his pack of cigarettes and his lighter. But his fingers brushed against something thin and hard.

Sanji pulled out a white card. _Madam Sharley_.

"Or, we could maybe ask the dying bastard himself," said Sanji.

Nami raised a brow, so Sanji passed the card to her.

"How do you feel about attending a séance?" he asked.


	12. Chapter 12

Madam Sharley looked like the kind of lady you would expect to hold séances and dabble in the supernatural. But then again, Sanji didn't look like the kind of person that did, and he was probably closer to the supernatural than she was. So he knew he couldn't really judge.

She was curvy, her dark hair shaped in a short, sweeping bob. She had pale skin and big, azure eyes framed by heavy eyeliner. Her lips were red, her nails long and painted violet, and her clothes mostly blues and purples. The more Sanji looked at her, the more he understood how she and Robin came to be friends.

The séance was held at her house, in her very dining room. The lights were dimmed, and candles were lit at the centre of the large, circular dining table they all gathered around. Sanji sat a seat away from her, and Nami sat to his left. There were five other people around the table with them. Strangers. Each one more different than the next. They'd all introduced themselves earlier before the start of the séance.

Coby, a young boy with glasses, sat between Madam Sharley and Sanji. He fidgeted constantly in anticipation. Next to Nami was an ugly looking punk with messy hair, a toothy overbite and a nose-ring. He called himself Bartolomeo.

His friend sat beside him. A girl called Lily who had curly, dyed-hair and smiled at everyone like she knew them. She constantly chatted to another friend sat on her other side, a young girl called Apis who looked like she was around Coby's age.

Finally, a guy named Pell completed the circle, sitting beside Madam Sharley. Unlike everyone else in the room, he looked the type to attend séances the most. Pale skin, slicked back hair, heavy eyeliner… Sanji could've sworn he was here with Madame Sharley herself.

"Before we begin," said Madam Sharley, clearing her throat to get everyone's attention. "We have some new 'contactors' here tonight, so I will explain some basic rules. I must remind you all, that regardless of what you believe, we are attempting to contact spirits tonight. Regardless of what you believe, some things may happen that some of you will find hard to comprehend."

Bartolomeo stifled a laugh from the other side of the table, earning a harsh glance from several people around him, including Sanji. The blonde himself came to this séance a little sceptical, but he knew how not to behave like an asshole about things.

"That being said," continued Madame Sharley. "It is important that you remain calm at all times. Spirits are sensual beings, and the atmosphere can alter their mood as easily as fire takes to paper."

Sanji swallowed. Did she really have to use such a dark analogy?

"Second most important thing is that you must remain respectful. We are dealing with the supernatural here, and there are powers at work that we cannot understand."

The room was quiet now, the air heavy, as everyone exchanged anxious glances at each other.

Madam Sharley smiled. "Of course, so long as you follow these two principles, we should be fine during our time of communication."

She paused and pulled a shallow box from under the table. From that, she produced a large Ouija board, and a palm-sized planchette. Sanji had to bite his lip to stop from snorting.

Really? They were going to contact the spirits in the most cliché way possible?

"Now, are we ready to begin?" asked Madam Sharley

Nobody replied. A few people nodded, but not a word was spoken. Madam Sharley took in a deep breath through her nose.

"If everyone can place both their hands on the table, palms touching the wood, we shall begin."

There was a quiet shuffling as everyone did as they were told.

"Clear your minds," instructed Madam Sharley. "Relax. Don't be afraid. The supernatural is not a dangerous thing. Relax."

Silence settled. Sanji took a deep breath. He couldn't sense anyone in the room, but somehow, he was nervous. Nami's foot gently tapped his leg under the table, and when he looked up at her, she gave him an encouraging smile. Sanji nodded and returned her smile.

"Oh spirits," spoke Madam Sharley. "We eight are gathered here tonight in order to reach out to you. I beseech you, heed our voices. Listen."

Silence again. Under his palms, Sanji felt the wood vibrate. People around the table glanced up, nervous eyes darting around the room. They could feel it too. But Sanji couldn't feel any other presence, or see any spectres. Alarm bells of 'hoax' were going off in his mind, but he kept these thoughts to himself.

"The spirits are among us," said Madam Sharley. "Can you feel them?"

She took in another deep breath and let the room fall quiet again. The vibration of the table continued, and the candles in the middle wavered in an unseen wind.

"Now," spoke Madam Sharley, startling Coby beside her. "Is there anyone here tonight hoping to contact someone in particular?"

"Abraham Lincoln," blurted out Bartolomeo. Lily whacked him at the back of his head.

Madame Sharley ignored him, glancing around the room. No one else spoke. Nami nudged Sanji with an elbow.

"Uh, I guess I have someone I want to talk to," he said.

Madame Sharley smiled at him. "Who would you like to contact?"

"His name's Zoro."

With a nod, Madam Sharley addressed the rest of the table.

"In order for use to make contact with the spirits, we must give them that method of communication. We will use the Ouija board. May I ask you all to place a finger on the planchette?"

One by one, each person touched the planchette. Sanji swallowed, wondering if he should've mentioned that Zoro wasn't dead, so they couldn't really contact him, but it was too late now anyway.

"Everyone relax," Madame Sharley reassured them, before she closed her eyes. "Spirits! We wish to speak to the one named Zoro! Please bring him forth."

They all grew still and silent. Sanji kept his eyes on the board.

Madam Sharley turned to Sanji again. "What is Zoro to you?"

"Uh…" Sanji hesitated. "A friend."

She turned back to the board and closed her eyes. "Spirits, please let us speak to the one named Zoro. His friend wishes to make contact."

Nothing. Then, after a while, the planchette moved and inch to the side. Everyone took a breath of awe, and Coby just about stifled a whimper. Even Bartolomeo gawked at the board. But his face quickly fell when he saw that the planchette didn't actually land on any letters.

"Was that it?" he said,

Madam Sharley shot him a stern glance, and he fell silent immediately.

"Oh spirits," she spoke again. "Do not be shy. We mean no harm. We only wish to speak with the one they call Zoro."

They waited. The planchette began to move. It landed on the letter 'W'.

"Oh my god," breathed Pell.

"Oh my god!" Bartolomeo imitated him mockingly. "A 'W'! Oh the horror!"

"Barto!" scolded Lily.

Madam Sharley turned to Sanji. "Does this letter have any significance for you?"

Sanji shook his head.

"Then the spirits have not finished talking," she closed her eyes again. "Sprits, please do not be afraid. Speak to us. We are waiting."

The planchette moved again.

H. O. A. R. E. Y. O. U.

The small piece of wood stopped at a question mark. Pell squinted at the board.

"Ho… Who… Who are you?" he said, piecing together the letters.

Bartolomeo grunted. "No shit, Sherlock."

"Will you shut the fuck up?" Sanji snapped at him.

Madam Sharley held up her free hand. "Gentlemen, please. Remain calm. The spirits are asking you to introduce yourself."

Sanji stared at the board. Was this really Zoro?

"How do I know it's him?" he asked Madam Sharley.

A thin smile spread across her face. "Why don't you ask?"

Sanji turned back to the Ouija board. "Are you really Zoro?"

W. H. O. A. R. E. Y. O. U.

Sanji sighed. It had to be Zoro. He didn't know any other spectre that could give him such a headache at just an introduction.

"It's Sanji," he answered. Whether or not that might mean something to the guy who's never met him in his waking life, Sanji couldn't tell. But he was about to find out. The planchette crawled its way across the board.

S. A. N. J. I.

Everyone around the table uttered gasps and noises of disbelief. Even Bartolomeo seemed taken on by it.

"You better not be moving the thing and spelling out your own name yourself," he said.

Sanji glowered at him. "If I was moving it, I'd be spelling out how much of an inconsiderate piece of shitty ass you really are."

The man opened his mouth to protest, but Apis cut him off.

"It's moving again!" she exclaimed.

The small, wooden plank slid across the board, spelling Sanji's name again. Then, it carried on.

L. O. O. K. B. E. H. I. N. D. Y. O. U.

Sanji's heart dropped into his stomach. Everyone's eyes were on him, some even looking passed him over his shoulder. Was there really something there? Swallowing past a lump in his throat, Sanji turned his head and looked over his shoulder.

The rest of Madam Sharley's living room spread out behind him. He frowned and turned back to the table.

"I don't see any-"

A head rested on the table, on top of the Ouija board. Blood and muscles dripped from its neck, spilling onto Sanji's fingers. Void like eyes stared at Sanji.

He screamed, leaping back from the table and landing flat on his back on the floor.

"Sanji!"

Nami was on the floor beside him immediately, as Coby shot up out of his seat.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Sanji groaned, pain shooting up his back from where he landed. At least he didn't hit his head.

"Great job, genius," said Bartolomeo. "You flung the board across the room."

Sanji glared at the man as he pushed himself up from the floor.

Madam Sharley was looking at him with wide eyes. "What did you see?"

"It was…" Sanji's voice trailed off. Everyone watched him with wide and fearful eyes. Despite what was happening, would they really believe him if he told them?

"N-nothing," he answered. "Sorry. I thought I saw something, but I was wrong."

Bartolomeo grumbled, but everyone else seemed to sigh in relief. Madam Sharley narrowed her eyes at him, but whatever she was thinking of quickly passed and she turned to Pell beside her.

"Would you mind fetching the board back for us again, please? Everyone else, I suggest we return to our seats and continue."

"C-c-continue?" stuttered Coby, eyes growing wider than the rim of his glasses.

Madam Sharley nodded. "The spirit is still here. We have not ended the conversation properly. It is important that we do so."

Sanji got back to his seat, just as Pell placed the board back on the table with the planchette. Madam Sharley reached for the wooden plank when it launched from the table and collided with her head with a sharp thud. She fell backwards onto the floor.

Apis screamed, and everyone else leapt up from their seats. Pell quickly knelt beside Madam Sharley, and Sanji rounded the table to her side too.

"Madam Sharley?" asked Pell, holding her up by her shoulders. "Are you alright?"

She winced, her eye lids fluttering open.

"Wh-what…"

"Oh my god, look!" Coby pointed back at the table. Sanji got up in time to see the Ouija board slide to the centre of the table by itself, joined by the planchette. Everyone watched in horror, as the wooden disk moved from letter to letter, unguided.

S. A. N. J. I.

"What the fuck is going on?" cried Bartolomeo. "What the fuck did you summon?"

"I didn't summon anything!"

"Sanji…" Nami called his attention back to the board.

The planchette was going crazy, syphoning between the letters of Sanji's name, the scratching noise of wood on cardboard filling the air among the whimpers and gasps.

"It's you!" cried Coby. "It wants you!"

"Make it stop," said Pell, helping Madam Sharley up to her feet. Sanji gawked at him.

"How?"

"You're the one that spoke to it! Make it stop!"

"I better not die tonight because that thing's out to get you," grumbled Bartolomeo

"Die?" Shrieked Apis. "Nobody said anything about dying. I don't want to die!"

Lily pointed to Sanji. "If anyone's dying tonight, it's him. I'm not getting involved in your mess!"

"You're all being ridiculous," Nami piped up. "This isn't his fault."

"Ridiculous?" said Lilly. "That thing is moving by itself, and it's calling to him!"

"For god's sake, will you make it stop already?" Pell pleaded with Sanji again.

He gave a harsh sigh. This was a bad idea. Sanji stepped forward and slammed a hand down on the table, trapping the planchette under his palm as it was spinning towards the 'J' of his name.

The candles around the room flickered out.

"E-end it," said Madam Sharley, her voice shaking. "End the conversation. Bid your good-byes."

"Uh…" Sanji stared at the Ouija board, uncertainly. "Good-bye, Zoro."

The room felt silent.

Coby approached the table. "I-is it over?"

Sanji stiffened. He tried to pull his hand away from the planchette, but a weight kept him rooted to the table. Grunting, he tried to pull away again.

"Sanji?" said Nami. "What's wrong?"

"I… I can't move."

The planchette moved again, dragging Sanji's hand with it. Everyone backed away from the table, looking on with jaws agape and eyes wide.

S. A. N. J. I.

"What, what is it?" Sanji snapped. His head was starting to spin, and his breathing thinned like he was trying to breathe through a cloth. "What the fuck do you want?"

L. O. O. K. B. E. H. I. N. D. Y. O. U.

A wet hand clasped Sanji's shoulder. With a yell, Sanji was flung across the room, hitting the wall with his back.

"Look ou!" Nami shrieked.

Sanji opened his eyes and saw the table flying towards him.

He ducked out of the way, curled up on the floor as the table smashed to pieces on the wall, scattering splinters onto his back.

Then, something tugged on Sanji's ankle and dragged him across the floor. Everyone screamed. Bartolomeo after him, missing him by inches. Nami got close, her hand grazing his shoulder, before she was blown backwards and onto the floor.

"Nami!" Sanji struggled to get up, but a weight kept him pressed to the floor.

Coby let out a cry, and Sanji turned to see him lifted up against the wall. The lights flickered. Books flew from shelves. Chair skittered across the floor, knocking people off their feet.

Madam Sharley backed up against the wall, away from the chaos and panic. She held her hands up in the air.

"Spirits!" She yelled over the din. "Be calm! I beseech you!"

Sanji grunted, trying to push himself off the floor to get to Nami. His eyes darted to where she was again. Blood froze in his veins, cold spiking through him. The bloodied man stood above Nami, soulless eyes focused on her.

"No!" cried Sanji. "Leave her out of this! Leave them all out of this, they have nothing to do with it!"

He watched as the spectre reached out a crimson hand towards Nami.

"Stop!"

The bloodied man touched her shoulder. Nami shrieked out in pain.

"Zoro, stop!"

The lights cut, then the flickered back on. The room was still. Everyone gasping for breath, some sobbing softly into their hands. Madam Sharley, eyes wide and visibly shaken, stood at the centre of the room.

"We will end the séance here," she said. "Thank you for heeding our call, oh Spirits."

"'Thank you'? You're thanking them?" Bartolomeo crawled out from behind the couch in the living room where he hid.

"We must remain respectful."

"We could've died! What the fuck was that all about?"

"If… if I'd have known we were contacting an angered spirit…" She turned to Sanji. "Did you attempt to contact him knowing what he was?"

Sanji lied and shook his head. To be fair, he didn't know that Zoro would try to hurt other people.

Madam Sharley nodded. "Then it is not a fault of yours either. I should have warned you all at the beginning. Vengeful spirits must never be contacted."

She turned to rest of the room. "You will all leave here now. But do not go straight home. You must all visit or pass through a public space first. This is to ensure that the spirit does not follow you home. Understood?"

Those who could, nodded in agreement. Sanji pushed himself up and ran to Nami's side.

"Are you alright?"

She winced as she got up, but nodded. Sanji helped her to her feet.

"Ow!" she cried as he touched her shoulder. Sanji's hand whipped back.

When Nami peeled back the shoulder of her cardigan off the sleeveless top she was wearing, Sanji's eyes widened. A bright red hand mark imprinted on her delicate skin. Guilt and anger bubbled up inside him.

Madam Sharley gasped as she approached them.

Nami craned her neck to try and see what was wrong. "What is it?"

"You… You've been marked by a spirit."

"What does that mean?" Sanji asked, panic tightening across his chest.

Madam Sharley shook her head. "It's never a good thing. I strongly advise you don't try to contact the dead until the mark is gone."

She turned to Sanji. "As for you… I… It is possible that the spirit is vengeful towards you. Have you wronged this person when he was alive?"

Sanji shook his head. He couldn't be bothered explaining that he never really knew Zoro when he was alive.

The frown on Madam Sharley's face only deepened. "Then… I'm afraid I have no easy solution for you… I'm sorry."

Sanji glanced back at the red mark on Nami's shoulder, but she quickly shrugged her cardigan back on.

"Don't worry about it," she said, smiling. "It'll probably wear off in a few days. I'll be fine."

This time, her smile couldn't sway Sanji. This was his fault. He knew there was a reason he was reluctant in her help in the first place, and now that reason was staring at him plainly in the face. Zoro's spectre injured her, as well as several others in the room now.

The sharp reality of his situation dawned on Sanji. He realised that he'd been keeping his abilities to himself, not just because he knew he'd get ridiculed for them. But because he knew just how dangerous meddling with spectres could be. He never wanted anyone else to bare that burden. He shouldn't have let Nami help him in the first place. Now he was going to make sure she wouldn't come to harm anymore.


	13. Chapter 13

Another night spent watching the dark shift into dawn. Sanji lay in his bed, half out of his covers, staring with aching eyes at his plain ceiling. His nightmares insisted in repeating the incident at the séance to him. Nami's piercing scream, the bloodied man's burning touch, the Ouija board syphoning through the letters of his name…

It was enough to keep anyone awake. But it was going over a week now since Sanji had proper sleep. He could feel it eating away at his bones. Even just walking outside for a while took whatever energy he had left out of him.

But Sanji didn't really have anything else to do. With a heavy sigh, Sanji rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Relieving himself and splashing cold water on his face, he returned to his bedroom and collapsed back into bed.

He stared at his alarm clock. _5:57_.

His eyes moved from the glowing numbers to the golden earring on his bedside table. Absently, his mind started to flick through the clues they had so far. None of them seemed to point to a new direction that Sanji could take. Maybe he should return to the hospital. He hadn't visited Koshiro in a while. Maybe he could try and get another clue from him.

With the weight of the world pulling against him, Sanji peeled himself out of his bed and got dressed. He left his flat and started his long trek to the hospital. He didn't really feel like taking the bus right now.

Passing the nearby café, he nearly bumped into Robin without even realizing it was her.

"Good-morning, Sanji," She said.

Sanji blinked. "Miss Robin! Good morning! What a pleasure to see you. What are you doing up so early?"

"The café opens in a few minutes," said Robin. "I was just going in for some coffee and a bit of morning reading. Would you care to join me?"

All of Sanji's previous desires to be anti-social fled from his body. Coffee with the lovely lady Robin sounded just too tempting right now.

"I'd love to," he answered, escorting her to the café.

They ordered their drinks from a couple of baristas, surprised that there were people up at this time, before taking a seat in their usual corner. Sanji sipped at his coffee, not even caring that he'd just burnt his tongue, and let the warmth seep deep into his bones.

"Another night without sleep?" asked Robin.

Sanji hummed and nodded. "I guess it doesn't take a sharp pair of eyes like yours to see that anymore, huh?"

A sympathetic smile spread on her face. "I heard you had a terrible experience at the séance the other night?"

Sanji gave a humourless laugh. "Miss Robin, are you sure you're not a psychic yourself?"

She giggled. "Unfortunately, Nami did tell me about that this time."

Sanji fell silent, quietly sipping at his coffee. He didn't know what to say to that.

"You don't have to worry," she added. "Nami didn't tell me willingly. There's only so much you can hide from me, you know?"

Sanji still said nothing. But he supposed it felt better to know that Nami still kept his secrets. Robin reached for her bag and pulled out a small, purple box, tied with a black bow.

Sanji frowned at the box. "What is this?"

"I guess you could call it an early Christmas present," said Robin, smiling in the way she did when she knew things that nobody else around her seemed to. "Open it."

Sanji reached for the box and pulled the ribbons off, lifting the lid. Inside, placed neatly on top of black crepe paper, was a miniature Ouija board. It was big enough to fit in the palm of one hand. Beside it was a little, thumb-sized planchette.

"Um…" Sanji stared at the present. It was, by far, the most random one he's received.

Robin sipped her coffee. "Actually, this was Sharley's idea. She said she didn't want to condone the contact of malicious spirits, but she felt that this would be of use to you."

Sanji popped the lid back on the box. "What, did the other night's mishaps not put her off enough?"

Robin shrugged. "I don't know the details. But I'd say you really need it. When was the last time you slept?"

"…I slept last night."

"Alright. When was the last time you slept a decent night's sleep?"

Sanji didn't answer. He really couldn't remember.

"Sanji," Robin called his attention again. When he looked up to her, he saw the concern in her eyes. "I don't know what's going on, but we're all worried about you. Not just Nami."

She reached out and put a hand on his arm. "I'm not asking you to share your problems. God knows you already give the boys enough grief for it every time they ask. But… I guess I just want you to know we're all here for you when you need it. Don't forget your friends."

Sanji watched the encouraging smile spread across Robin's face. It sickened him. He knew she meant well, and he was grateful that she cared. But he hated not being able to pull his own weight. He hated having to drag his friends into his own problems and having it wreck them too. The red handprint on Nami's shoulder flickered in his mind.

He shook his head and pulled out of Robin's grasp. Reaching for the box, he slipped it into his coat pocket and pulled on the best smile he could muster.

"Thank you for your concern, my dear," he said. "I'll be fine. It's nothing for you to worry about."

Robin's face fell back into her solemn expression, like she was trying to assess and read him in one glance. Sanji cleared his throat and got up from his seat.

"Well, I hate to leave so suddenly, but I really must get on with my day. Will you excuse me?"

"Of course," said Robin, as she got out her book again. "Just remember what I said."

He nodded, thanking her again for the present in his pocket, before leaving the café and catching the bus to the hospital.

For someone who hated hospitals, Sanji really shouldn't be willingly visiting one during his spare time. To make it seem less weird, he went to check in on Chopper first, finding the little doctor catching some shuteye between shifts. Sanji smiled to himself. Sometimes, Chopper pushed himself too hard. Deciding not to disturb his sleep, Sanji made his was to Zoro's room.

Koshiro was absent again. Sanji checked the time on his watch as he stood outside the room. Maybe it was too early for the guy to visit. Sanji took a deep breath before entering the room by himself.

Zoro lay as lifeless as ever on the bed. He was paler, chest barely moving. Nothing at all like the Zoro he'd watched in the tournament videos.

"Hey," Sanji greeted. His words returned by nothing.

Sanji sighed. He reached into his pocket, passed the box that Robin gave him and pinched the small, gold earring at the bottom. He pulled it out, dangling the gold in the air.

Sanji glanced down at Zoro's ear. Sure enough, along the bottom of his left earlobe, there were three small holes, lined neatly side by side. Sanji hovered the earring over one of the holes. He pictured the demonstration video, watching the three earrings chiming against each other as Zoro moved. Then he remembered the vision at the cliff top. The earring that fell from the spectre…

"It really is yours," said Sanji, pocketing the earring again.

He pulled out the box and emptied the small Ouija board onto his palm. He had nothing else to go on, and now that he'd promised himself not to involve any of his friends in this, Sanji was back to square one. Maybe even a step behind square one. Square zero.

Glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one else was around, Sanji held the Ouija board like a phone between two hands, and placed the small planchette on the centre of the board.

"Alright, look," he said, glancing over the sleeping Zoro. "I really, really want to get out of this mess. I didn't even ask for any of this. It's not like I want to go around rubbing shoulders with spectres. It's just… not normal."

He paused to rub at his sore eyes.

"But I guess I'm stuck with you until I can put you to rest. So at least let me try to help you. Give me a name, a clue, anything."

The life support machine beeped away. Sanji stared at the inanimate Ouija board in his hands. He tried again.

"Zoro?"

He waited. Maybe he needed to physically touch the little wooden piece? Sanji reached his thumb out towards it, but the planchette started to move. He startled, and stared as the wooden disk hovered over letters.

S. A. N. J. I.

He swallowed, his pulse throbbing under his skin.

"Y-yeah, it's me."

The planchette moved again.

L. O. O. K. B. E. H. I. N. D. Y. O. U.

Sanji frowned. Not this shit again. But his heart drummed away, and the hair on his arms stood on end. He turned slowly.

The door opened. Sanji jumped, barely catching a yelp that threatened to leave his lips.

Koshiro paused at the doorway, blinking in surprise. His face quickly pulled into a smile.

"Oh, Sanji-kun," he said. "You beat me here. What a surprise."

Sanji chuckled awkwardly. "Ah, yeah. Sorry."

"Oh, don't apologize," Koshiro continued, entering the room and shutting the door behind him. "I was just telling Zoro yesterday how you haven't come by in a while. Sorry I wasn't here to greet you. I had to go get breakfast."

He moved across the room and filled the kettle. "Would you like some tea?"

"Um," Sanji guessed he didn't really have much of a choice.

Koshiro set about preparing two mugs of tea. When Koshiro's back was turned, Sanji slipped the miniature Ouija board back in his pocket and took a seat in one of the chairs.

"I'm glad you came today, actually," said Koshiro as made the tea. Sanji noticed the change in his tone of voice. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Me too, actually," said Sanji, deciding just then to ask him for more clues about Zoro's murderer. But he knew he couldn't just jump straight to that. "Er, sorry. You first."

Koshiro smiled, passing a steaming mug to him. He sat down, taking in a deep breath and glancing over to Zoro, his eyes holding a glimmer of hurt behind those round glasses.

"It's… A difficult topic," he started. "I was just planning on carrying this burden myself, but. Well, I feel that since you know Zoro too, it's only right you know."

Sanji sipped at his tea quietly. Inside, a voice nicked at the back of his mind. He didn't like where this was going.

"I've already told you about what the doctors have been saying," Koshiro continued. "About Zoro's condition… He's not shown any improvement for the past few months. I've had a good long think about it myself too, and… Maybe, it's for the best."

"A year is a long time. When Zoro first went under, the doctors said that the longer a person stays in a coma for the more unlikely it was for them to wake up. I've… been staying strong through this whole time. But… Maybe things turned out the way they did for a reason."

Sanji gulped his tea. The lump sunk down his throat uncomfortably and dropped like a rock in his gut. Dread crawled across his skin, and a heat blossomed in his chest.

"You're… You're thinking of…" Sanji didn't really know how to word it.

But Koshiro understood and he dipped his head.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I realise this is hard to take in… But I hope you'll understand the decisions of a tired old man. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up for."

"When are you, I mean… How long until…"

Koshiro smiled his broken smile. "Well, I know this may contradict everything I just said. But I thought it would be nice for Zoro to reach his next birthday before we change his treatment. He'll be eighteen in a few months, you know."

His eighteenth. Sanji only had until November to find Zoro's murderer. But then again, if he passes on completely, will his spectre? Or will he proceed to haunt Sanji forever until he finally looses the last bit of sanity? Sanji started to fidget with the mug in his hands. _He didn't have enough time_.

"Uh," Sanji sat up, then he gave a short laugh. "This… Sorry, this is all a bit hard to take in… Um…"

"Of course, I'm sorry," Koshiro cleared his throat and sat up. "But anyway, we'll move on. What was it you wanted to bring up?"

Sanji gripped his mug and leaned forward in his chair. It was now or never.

"Mr Koshiro, I know this probably isn't the best topic to move on to. But I need to ask. Do you have any suspicions at all about who could've done this to Zoro?"

Koshiro frowned. "Why?"

"It's just… Something doesn't seem right. I've seen how Zoro fights. It's not easy to overpower the guy. Whoever did it must've caught him with his guard down. And the police didn't have any suspects at all? Isn't that too strange?"

Koshiro's eyes widened behind his glasses. "Sanji-kun… You haven't been looking into Zoro's accident, have you?"

Sanji met the elder man's glance. He may as well come clean with it now.

"It wasn't an accident. Someone tried to kill Zoro, and whoever it was needs to be brought to justice. At least before he goes under for good. It's only right."

Koshiro's face changed completely. His dark eyes cast down on the floor, lips pulling down into a small frown.

"Sanji-kun," he spoke, his voice dragging out of his lips like a hiss. "I don't think that is a smart thing to do. It is just as you said, Zoro was a strong young man. Whoever it was that got him knew exactly how to do so. These are people you shouldn't be messing around with."

"All the more reason to find out who they are," said Sanji. He paused then, his brows knotting on his forehead. "Wait… Does that mean, you know who they are?"

Koshiro's frown deepened. "I don't know anything."

"But you have a suspects in mind, don't you?" Sanji pressed. "Who are they?"

The elder man fell silent, glancing at the floor. Sanji insisted.

"Please. For Zoro."

Koshiro looked up. Somewhere, in that broken glance, Sanji saw something like hope spark in his eyes again.

"There was only one man I know who came close to taking Zoro's life," Koshiro spoke. "The man Zoro held up as his rival. The only man he'd lost to in a tournament."

Sanji's breath hitched in his throat. His mind was screaming, 'Who? Who?' But he stayed silent and let Koshiro unravel the suspect in his own pace.

The door clicked open, cutting their conversation short. Sanji swore inside but quickly put a smile on his face when he saw a beautiful nurse enter the room.

"Sorry for interrupting," she said, closing the door behind her. "It's time to move Zoro again."

"Ah, yes, of course," replied Koshiro, getting up from his seat and putting his mug down.

Sanji's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he checked it to see a message from Luffy.

"Please excuse us, Sanji-kun," said Koshiro. "This may take a while."

Sanji shook his head. "It's alright. I best be going anyway."

Koshiro hesitated for a moment, before nodding. "Alright. Thank you for dropping by."

"Don't worry. Just… think about what I said."

Sanji left the room and made his way out of the hospital. He read Luffy's message on his way out.

_'Hey, where are you?_'

Frowning, Sanji tapped out a reply.

'_Out. Why?_'

'_I've been looking all over for you! Your old man kicked me out of the kitchens before I could eat anything D: Where are you?_'

Sanji was half way through typing a reply, when Luffy messaged again.

'_Actually, better yet, come over to mine. And bring food. I've got something cool to show you._'

Sighing, Sanji deleted his previous reply and typed out another.

'_This better not be like that time you asked me to come over to show me something cool and it turned out to be this monstrous mould growing in the back of your microwave..._'

'_That mould was awesome! But this is waaaaaaaay better. It's about that Zoro sword guy._'

Sanji stopped in the middle of the hospital car park. While he read over the message again, Luffy sent him another.

'_Ace found out something BIG about him from Shanks. We got new footage too! Come over! And don't forget FOOOOOD_'

Sanji shook his head and pocketed his phone, running for the bus that just stopped outside the car park. In the back of his mind, he calculated how long it would take him to return home, cook something quick, and head out to the Portgas' flat in the centre of town.


	14. Chapter 14

Luffy opened another unlabelled DVD case, he swivelled the disk around a finger of one hand, whilst the other busied itself with shoving down the meat sandwiches that Sanji brought over.

"It's so cool, you gotta watch this fight," Luffy mumbled around a mouthful of bread.

Sanji sat beside Luffy and watched as the logo spun onto the screen again.

"What's so special about this match?"

Luffy chuckled. "Zoro _looses_."

Sanji snorted. "Yeah right. You sure about that?"

"Mmhm, watch."

Luffy clicked through the clips until they stopped at the footage of Zoro and another man squaring off. They were wearing uniform different to the Kendo gear. White and hanging loose around their shoulders, tied together at the waist by a black belt. Zoro held two wooden swords. The other man had just one, and held it loosely in his left hand as he too took his place across the room.

Sanji looked over Zoro's opponent. He was much older than Zoro. Cropped black hair, trimmed beard and sharp, piercing eyes. They circled each other on gym floor. Zoro looked more stern and serious that he had in his previous videos. The whole gym was quiet.

They moved at once, at the same time, lunging straight for each other. Wooden swords clacked together, heaving grunts and swift padding of bare feet on polished wood resounded across the gym.

The exchange was fierce. Everything happened too fast for Sanji's eyes to follow. Luffy was squirming beside him in excitement.

The two fighters broke apart, stepping back and putting distance between them. A few people in the audience clapped and some even cheered on either Zoro or his opponent.

Zoro's shoulders were heaving and sweat glistened on his forehead. The other guy looked just as calm and composed as he did before the fight. Just how strong was he?

"This bit, this next part, watch, watch, watch," Luffy jittered excitedly.

Sanji tried his best to drown him out and focused on the video.

Zoro moved first, charging forward with a short battle cry. It was crazy how fast his opponent parried his attacks with just one sword. Then, he sidestepped Zoro.

Clack! Clack! Clack!

Three short swipes. Sanji couldn't even see where they hit. But after that, Zoro was on the ground, both swords whacked from his hands.

The crowd erupted. A bell dinged. Sanji watched as Zoro punched the ground clearly cursing.

"Wait, that's it?" said Sanji with a frown. "He lost?"

Luffy laughed. "How awesome was that? That guy was super fast!"

Sanji noticed the video was still rolling. He watched as Zoro got up from the ground, his face scrunched into a sneer. He walked up to his opponent, getting right up in his face. Zoro was yelling but Sanji couldn't hear any of it over the cheering. The video cut off as an elder man with round glasses and black hair rushed to the scene to pull Zoro away.

"What happened then?" Sanji asked as another video began to play. He paused it and rewound, playing back the last few seconds of the video.

"Ah, he probably challenged him to another rematch," said Luffy as though he was simply giving the time of day.

"What?"

"Yeah, Ace was telling me about it. That guy Zoro was fighting, apparently his name's Dracule Mihawk. They say he's the best, really famous in the martial arts world. Never lost a match for years."

Sanji took in a short breath. "Zoro's rival…"

Luffy nodded. "Ace said he'd left at the time it happened, and he only heard the story from Shanks. Apparently, as soon as the Tournament was over, Zoro took his swords to Mihawk and challenged him to a proper fight with their proper weapons. He's crazy. You could probably guess what happened after."

Sanji felt dread and realization spreading like a heat from his gut to the rest of his body.

"Zoro lost…"

"Yeah," said Luffy. "Ace said that fight was way more tense than the one we just watched. Ah, man. Could you imagine being there first hand?"

"I don't know, Luffy. If it was a real fight, then it probably meant the looser…"

"I know! Ace said Mihawk cut Zoro like a pie with one swipe. There was blood everywhere. Real messy."

Sanji rewound the last few seconds of the video again, to the part where Zoro was yelling his challenge to Mihawk. He watched the older man, still looking calm. But his eyes gleamed with something that Sanji could only thumb down as 'pissed'. Zoro probably ran his mouth and said too much, pushed Mihawk to nearly killing him.

"How long ago was this again?" asked Sanji.

"The fight? It happened in last years Tournament."

"Which was in…"

"Uh… May, I think. Or April. Some time around then."

Sanji paused the video. The still image showing Zoro's angry scowl and Mihawk's death-like stare. April last year, then a few months later, Zoro fell into his coma. Could it have been Mihawk? Was he finishing the job before Zoro could fully recover? But he was such an obvious suspect, why did the police miss it?

Sanji got up, his muscles started to itch at the thought of a new and closer lead.

"I need to get to this Mihawk guy," said Sanji, slipping on his coat. "You know where I can find him?"

Luffy shrugged. "No, but Ace might know. He's working downstairs in the shop right now. Let's go ask."

They ran downstairs and into the store. Ace wasn't hard to find. He was snoozing away in the stock room where Luffy was allowed in. The older Portgas brother, after much yawning and stretching, groggily told him that Mihawk sometimes trained in Shank's gym. He gave them the address before dozing off again.

Sanji left the store, typing in the address in his phone and watching as the map loaded up directions. Luffy walked beside him, peering at the screen. Sanji stopped and frowned at his friend.

"You're not coming with me," he said.

Luffy groaned. "Why not?"

"Because… I'm doing something important. It's better if you don't come."

"No!" Luffy protested like a petulant child, crossing his arms and sticking out his lower lip. "I wanna see the cool swordsman too. You took Nami last time, and that wasn't fair. I wanna go this time!"

Sanji sighed. "Look, Luffy. This guy could've killed a man."

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'? He's gonna be dangerous!"

"I don't care, let's go!" Luffy snatched Sanji's phone from his hands and ran ahead, reading the map.

"Ah- Hey!" Sanji ran to catch up with him, and he may have done so on any other day, but not in his current condition.

"Alright, fine! I get it!" Sanji yelled after him, feeling his energy already draining. "You can come! Now get back here and give me back my fucking phone!"

Luffy slowed down, but kept Sanji's phone to himself. Sanji would've kicked Luffy's ass and got his phone back himself if he wasn't too busy holding himself up with his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

Luffy chuckled and pocketed Sanji's phone.

"Now I know where the gym is and you don't. So you have to take me with you," he stated, grinning down at Sanji like a mad man.

Sanji gave Luffy an incredulous look, before sighing and shaking his head. For someone who acted like an airhead half the time, Luffy did have his little genius moments, and it was always at someone else's expense.

"You little shit," muttered Sanji. But he let Luffy take the lead, and followed him down the road.

They hopped on a bus that took them to the east of Logue Town, closer to the port. Luffy got off without warning and Sanji had to run down the whole bus to get off before it drove on again.

"We're gonna see the swordsman, gonna see the swordsman, gonna see him fight~," sang Luffy as they walked.

Sanji shook his head. He hoped they wouldn't catch him armed. The last thing he wanted to do was to anger an armed murderer.

"We're here!" Luffy cheered, throwing his fists in the air. Sanji rounded the corner after him and cast his eyes up at the building across the street. It was pretty plain, made of a cream-coloured cement and had large glass windows with oaken panels. It didn't look like a gym.

"This really the place?" asked Sanji.

Luffy shrugged. "Only one way to find out," he sang with a grin. Tossing Sanji's phone back to him, Luffy bustled across the street, mindless of the cars that were coming down the road.

Sanji pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a head ache bloom in his skull. Why did he let Luffy come with him again? Waiting until it was safe to cross, Sanji jogged to the gym and pushed past the glass doors.

He heard Luffy's unmistakably loud laugh, and found the boy leaning over the reception desk, standing on his tiptoes so his arms could reach the surface. He was happily talking to a man behind the counter, with a light stubble and golden dreads held back behind a blue bandana.

"Sanji, look! It's Usopp's dad!" Luffy gestured for the blonde to join them.

Yasopp guffawed. He laughed the exact same way Usopp did, but with a deeper tenor to his voice.

"What are you two kids doing bursting in here, anyway? You better not be causing any trouble."

He winked at Luffy, who only chuckled in response.

"I didn't you worked here," said Sanji.

"Eh, me and ol' Shanks go a long way back. I help out here and there, especially when he's out of the country. Ah, who am I kidding? I'm practically the manager here!"

He laughed again.

"So, out with it. What are you two up to?"

"We're looking for the crazy swordsman!" exclaimed Luffy. Sanji nudged him sharply with an elbow.

"Swordsman? You're gonna have to be a bit more specific. There's quite a few that visit the gym."

"Actually," Sanji started, before Luffy could burst out with more nonsense. "We're looking for someone called Dracule Mihawk. I heard he sometimes trains here."

Yasopp's smile cracked a little. He laughed nervously and cleared his throat.

"Geez, he ain't just any swordsman. Mihawk's a champ. What do you kids want with him?"

"We wanna meet him!" said Luffy. "He's awesome."

Sanji didn't say anything. He supposed coming at the pretence of being 'fans' wasn't a bad idea, regardless of whether or not Luffy intended that.

Yasopp chuckled. "Fair enough. But the guy's pretty illusive. He's not one to mingle with fans, so he keeps his training spots secret and changes his routine a lot. How'd you two manage to track him down here anyway?"

Sanji's eyes widened. "So he is here? Right now?"

Yasopp waved a hand a shook his head. "I, er, I didn't say that he was here. Just saying that if he was, he wouldn't want to be bothered while training. If he was here, per say, fans are better of waiting outside 'til he's finished and catching him then."

Yasopp waggled his eyebrows. Sanji caught his drift, but Luffy hummed in thought, frown set deep in his face.

"I undertand," answered Sanji. "But we got here in such a rush. Um, do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

Yasopp pointed to a set of stairs down the corridor. "You can use the one in the gent's changing rooms. Just up the stairs and to your left."

"Thanks," Sanji smiled, and moved on, leaving Luffy to talk about tournaments with Yasopp.

Internally, Sanji was laughing to himself. One of these days, he was going to run out of luck. He needed to stop using the bathroom excuse. Still, it worked, and he may as well milk it while he had the chance.

Dodging the changing rooms, Sanji walked up to a sign and began to follow the arrows that pointed to the 'dojo'. It was another set of stairs up past a few rooms that housed various exercise equipment.

Sanji was thankful the gym wasn't busy and over run with people at this time of day. There were a few in some of the rooms, and others making their way up and down the corridors. But as Sanji went up another flight of steps, he found himself completely isolated.

Meandering down the corridor, Sanji briefly glanced over glimmering plaques and trophies displayed in glass cabinets. His eyes also lingered on the picture frames spaced out on the walls, each one either displaying a well-timed snap-shot of two fighters in the heat of battle, or fighters posing victorious.

Sanji's attention was caught by the distant sound of grunting and the steady whoosh of a heavy object being swung. He crept to an open doorway at the end of the corridor, and peered in.

The room was built like a traditional dojo, with high windows, panelled walls and a tatami floor. Racks of wooden training weapons lined the walls. In the centre of the room, stood a man with cropped, dark hair and a trimmed beard.

Mihawk.

He wore loose jogging pants, and a white vest top, drenched in sweat. Between two hands, he clutched a long sword, made of dark wood and looked twice as thick and heavy as a regular sword. The muscles of his exposed biceps rippled and flexed as he went through sword movements, sweat glistening off his skin.

Sanji watched quietly from the doorway. Mihawk's movements were so precise, and flowed from one stance to another as easily as the waves ebbed and flowed from the shore.

"It's not a display show, boy," Mihawk spoke without breaking rhythm, his deep voice boomed out across the empty dojo.

Sanji startled. He contemplated ducking behind the doorway again, but what was the point when he'd already been detected? Instead, Sanji took a deep breath and stepped inside the dojo.

"I need to talk to you about someone," said Sanji, unsure of whether he sounded rude or if his voice shook and made him sound pathetic.

Mihawk completed a movement and turned on the balls of his feet to change stance.

"If you want someone killed, I'm afraid I don't do that sort of thing anymore," he said, as he continued to go through his forms.

Sanji froze on the spot, the blood draining from his face, as his mind tried to process what Mihawk had just said.

The older man finished his final movement and sheathed his wooden sword into the cloth belt around his waist. He turned to Sanji, his face devoid of any emotion.

"I was joking," said Mihawk. "No need to look so scared."

An awkward silence drew out between them, as Sanji struggled to get his frozen muscles to move again. His brain had long since registered Mihawk's statement as a joke, but the time to laugh had already passed and Sanji simply remained silent.

Mihawk let out a deep sigh and walked over to an open duffle bag discarded to one side of the gym. He picked up a grey towel on the floor and began to dry the sweat from his face.

"So? What is it you wanted to say?"

Sanji feigned bravery and approached the swordsman.

"It's about Zoro Roronoa."

Mihawk didn't flinch or rise at the name. His face remained stoic, not betraying any emotion in the slightest.

"What about him?

Sanji shoved his hands in his pockets, fiddling with the lighter. He had to be careful not to raise any suspicions, but at the same time he had to try and get Mihawk to confess. This was going to be tricky.

"I'm a friend of Zoro's," said Sanji, deciding to play innocent and blindly confess the truth to try and get a reaction from the older man. "I'm trying to find the person responsible for putting him in a coma."

Mihawk paused half way through running the towel over his hair. His golden eyes pierced through Sanji, but his face was still unreadable.

He flung the towel around his neck and bent to stash his sword away.

"Let me guess: I'm your number one suspect?"

Sanji said nothing, watching Mihawk's calm movements as he began to pack away his things.

"You're a year late with your interrogation, boy," said the swordsman. "The police already took me in for questioning at the time they found Zoro's body. I have a sound alibi, and frankly what would I gain by slaughtering him and dumping his body in the woods?"

_Bullshit_.

"Last time you fought Zoro, you ended up nearly killing him," accused Sanji.

Mihawk gave a dry laugh. "You're talking about the Logue Town tournament? Let me ask you this: Were you there to witness the events yourself?"

Sanji didn't answer. A thin smile spread across Mihawk's face.

"Do you know how many exaggerated stories I've heard about that night? If I had a Belli for each ridiculous retake of that story I've heard, I'd be sitting on pretty pile of retirement fund. And if I had a second Belli for each time I've had to retell the story the way it really happened, I'd have enough to buy my own mansion in the middle of a dark and impossible to reach woods, where I can lock myself away from prying people like you."

He zipped up the duffle bag and slipped on a plain black hoodie. Slinging both the duffle and his sword bag over his shoulders, he turned and stood directly in front of Sanji.

"Alright," Sanji challenged. "Let's hear what really happened that night then. Your first hand account."

Mihawk glanced down his nose at Sanji. For a second, Sanji thought this might be it. He'd pushed too far, and Mihawk was going to kill him for sure. Instead, the older man let out and exasperated sigh, his shoulders slouching.

"When Zoro lost at the finals, he freaked out," explained Mihawk. Sanji replayed the footage he'd just watched over in his head.

"The little brat had potential. He was immensely talented, and dedicated to his swordsmanship. I could feel it in every hit I deflected during our match. It was a shame his temper was something that needed shunting. When it was over, he ran up to me, yelling that the circumstances were not right. He said he was sure he could beat me if we were fighting with our lives on the line."

Sanji glanced away. That all sounded true according to everything else he'd seen. Mihawk laughed then, a deep and dark laugh that caused a shiver to run down Sanji's spine.

"There's nothing I like more than shutting up brats that think they can bite as bad as they bark," Mihawk continued. "So, obviously, I accepted. I was, dare I say it, impressed. Santoryu. The boy had the gall and arrogance to create his own style, and use it against me. Unfortunately, he was too hasty, to caught up in his feelings and not focused. So he lost."

Sanji gawked at Mihawk. The older man shrugged at him.

"It was a fight with our lives on the line," he said. "We'd both agreed to the terms and both agreed to the consequences. Of course, I'm not a bloodthirsty killer. I'm a swordsman. I knew he'd lost the fight as soon as I'd cut through his defences and hit him across the chest. I didn't need to finish him off. I'd already won. That's all there is to it."

With that said, Mihawk made his way out of the dojo. Sanji couldn't believe what he was hearing. The swordsman wasn't denying the fact that he attacked and nearly killed Zoro. How was he not the top suspect for everything?

"Zoro fell into his coma a few months after your fight," Sanji exclaimed, jogging to catch up with Mihawk in the corridor. "You're telling me you had nothing to do with it?"

"Of course not," said Mihawk. "Do you even know what happened after our fight?"

Sanji shook his head. Mihawk rolled his eyes.

"Again, why does nobody care about the aftermath?" Mihawk sighed with exasperation.

"Zoro was rushed to the hospital, stitched up, and spent a good week sleeping off the injury. After that he tracked me down again."

Sanji balked. "To have another rematch?"

At that Mihawk smiled. It was a genuine smile this time, and something glinted in his eyes.

"I thought so too," He said. "But instead, the poor boy prostrated himself on the floor before me. He apologized for his disrespectful behaviour at the tournament. Then he promised me that he'd train harder each day, until the next time we fought, and he'd sworn to beat me."

Mihawks stopped halfway down the corridor. He glanced at one of the pictures up on the wall, and when Sanji followed his gaze, he saw that they were looking at a picture of Zoro, in his kendo uniform, grinning madly and holding up a golden trophy. How did he miss this picture before?

"Zoro was a talented swordsman," said Mihawk. "I hadn't felt that exited about a fight in a long time. The fact that he learnt from his mistakes only shows more promise. I would gladly have my title taken from me by someone like Zoro, though he still had a long way to go. Imagine my disappointment in finding out about his accident?"

They fell quiet then, both staring up at the picture on the wall. Next to Zoro was an old man with a kindly face, his arm proudly wrapped around Zoro's shoulders. Round glasses, long black hair tied back… Sanji saw this man in the end of the video after Zoro and Mihawk's fight, running up to get between the two fighters before things got heated.

"What is your name, boy?" Mihawk's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"Uh, Sanji."

The swordsman nodded. "If you truly are a friend of Zoro's then you must know how strong he is and how good he is with the sword. Whoever it was that put Zoro in that position must've been someone close to him. Someone he trusted. There's no way Zoro would loose to an enemy."

Sanji hummed in agreement, but he couldn't take his eyes off the picture on the wall. That guy, sure he saw him in the video, but it felt like he'd seen him somewhere else before. Something throbbed at the back of Sanji's skull, and he felt that wall again. The same one he felt when they left Kuina Dojo.

"Who's… Who's the guy next to Zoro?" Sanji asked.

"Ah," Mihawk's voice softened to a tone of admiration. "He's Zoro's mentor. A swordsman too, in his younger days. I would've loved to fight him in his prime. I heard that he raised Zoro as though he were his own son. Koshiro-sensei."

Sanji frowned. The headache pulsed in his brain, as an image of a picture frame flickered in his mind.

"Koshiro?" said Sanji. "That's not…"

Then the wall in his mind shattered. He saw it clearly, the small picture frame in the study at Kuina dojo. The two men that stood behind the children… One of them was the same man who stood beside Zoro in the picture they were looking at now. But if he was Koshiro, then who was...

Sanji's heart hammered in his chest. His breathing thinned and he stared with wide eyes at the picture before him.

"No," he whispered.

Mihawk frowned beside him. "What's wrong?"

Sanji's head spun, his stomach churned.

"I-I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I have to go."

Without looking back, Sanji rushed back downstairs.

"Sanji! What took you so long?" Luffy asked as soon as he saw him. But Sanji just walked right passed them and left the gym.

"Sanji?" He heard Luffy call after him, but he didn't stop.

Something was dreadfully wrong. The picture… The two people in the picture… Who was the real Koshiro? Who was the guy that was looking after Zoro in the hospital for the past year?

Sanji stopped at the corner of the street, his shaking hands grasping onto a nearby lamppost. He leant all his weight on the post, his breath shuddering out of his lungs, and waited for the nausea that bubbled in his stomach to subside.

"Sanji?" Luffy appeared beside him. "What's wrong?"

Sanji stared at him. How was he even supposed to explain something this complicated to Luffy? He needed Nami. He needed to find Nami.

His hand reached for the phone in his pocket, but froze. No, he couldn't ask Nami. He couldn't involve her in this anymore. But what else was he supposed to do? He was so close to uncovering the truth- no, perhaps he had uncovered the truth, but he needed to confirm it. And doing so, might lead him closer to the killer than he'd like to.

Luffy's hand clasped around his shoulder.

"Hey, you okay?" his friend asked, concern thick in his voice. "You need to go home or something?"

Home. Yes, home. They could be safe there until Sanji came up with another plan. He nodded weakly, and then pushed himself off of the lamppost. Luffy kept his hand on Sanji's arm to steady him, as they ambled slowly down the road.

The rev of an engine, then a screech of tires stopped Sanji in his tracks. He glanced up and saw white van pull up onto the pavement beside them.

Luffy leapt back, pulling Sanji with him as he glared at the van. "What the fuck?"

The doors slid open. Three men leapt out and pulled the two of them apart.

"Hey! What the- Let go!" Luffy struggled, punching and kicking out at random.

Sanji, frozen by shock, had to feel the metal floor of the van's internal under his shoes and hear Luffy's fist connect to someone's face before he realized what was going on.

He spun, swiping a leg at the man who had grabbed him, the memento causing him to fall out of the truck and on to the pavement.

"Run!" Luffy yelled, fighting off the man who had grabbed him. "Sanji, run!"

The blonde got to his feet, stopped by a thin hand on his shoulder. He turned around, facing the man with long, grey hair and a strange goatee.

"Too late," said the man and he clicked his fingers.

Sanji blacked out, with Luffy's yelling still ringing in his ears.


	15. Chapter 15

Muffled yelling. The crack of gravel under rubber tires. Grunted swearing and hushed cursing between three gruff voices. The metallic slide and slam of a van's side door.

"Get 'em in, quick."

Large rough hands grabbed Sanji's arm and lifted him from the hard floor of the van. His feet dragged along the gravel. More muffled yelling.

_Luffy…_

Thwack!

"Ow! Fuck!"

"Jesus, someone shut this kid up!"

"Just bring 'em both inside! The boss'll deal with them."

Sanji cracked his eyes open, blinking against the sudden brightness, as he saw the wooden entryway of the dojo pass him by.

Groaning, he pulled against the hands that dragged him, but his muscles weren't responding as well as he'd hoped.

"This one's coming to."

"Better tie them up, quick."

Sanji grunted as he felt himself dropped into a chair. He heard a muffled oomph behind him and the scraping of another chair on wooden floor. Roughly, his arms were looped behind the back of the chair, and his wrists were bound together with thick rope and itched at his skin.

Sanji blinked and shook his head, feeling his bearings slowly return. They were at the Kuina Dojo, in the vast and empty space of the training room. It was dark outside, and the low lanterns around the room only lit so much of it in a golden glow.

He heard the chair beside him rock and jitter on the floor. Sanji turned to see Luffy tied up beside him, with a gag around his mouth. It didn't shut him up though. He glared furiously at the three men around them, his insults coming out muffle through the cloth gag.

Sanji followed his glance to their kidnappers. The plump man and the tall, grey-haired one Sanji recognized from when he visited with Nami. There was a third guy, smaller than the other two but with long, gangly arms and a cat-like grin.

"Jesus Christ, will you shut up?" grumbled the plump man. He strode over to Luffy and struck him across the face with the back of his hand.

"Luffy!" cried Sanji, struggling against his bonds.

The smaller man snickered. "Nice one."

"Sham, Buchi, enough," said the grey-haired man. "The boss is here."

Sanji glanced at the sound of soft, slow footsteps. Through the open doorway, a tall man entered, with black hair slicked back and a pair of round glasses on his face.

Sanji's breath hitched in his throat. "K-koshiro?"

The man chuckled, fixing his glasses on his face with the base of his palm.

"You know, I always hated it when people got me confused for my brother. Ironic that I would take up his guise in order to have my way."

Sanji gritted his teeth, as he watched the impostor circle the room towards Luffy. Brother... Sanji remembered the picture in the study. The two men stood side by side, looking impossibly similar.

"Who are you?" said Sanji.

The man grinned, but it quickly fell from his face and he turned to look at Luffy as though the boy was an unwanted pile of rubbish.

"Jango, I though I specifically told you to only get the blonde one?"

He turned to the man with grey-hair, who flaked at under his glare.

"Er, well, you see, sir… Um… The other one was making a racket, so we had to bring him along too, so he wouldn't yap. You dig?"

The man sighed. "I suppose it wouldn't matter if we added another body to the pile…"

"Don't fucking ignore me," spat Sanji, accompanied by Luffy's muffled shouts. "Who the fuck are you?"

The impostor gave Sanji a level glance. "My name is Kuro. I helped Koshiro look after that little brat."

He turned to the two other subordinated stood idly by.

"Sham, get my gloves."

The smaller man nodded and slinked out of the dojo. This wasn't good. Something bad was about to happen, and they needed to get out of here fast.

"I don't understand," said Sanji, as leaned back in his chair. While he spoke, he began to wriggle his wrists out of the rope bindings. "Why would you lie to people and pretend to be your brother?"

Kuro's eyes gleamed. "Oh, Sanji-kun. You mean to say, you've been snooping around this much, and you haven't even worked it out yet?"

He laughed, turning around just Sham returned with a long, metal box. He held it lengthways and presented it to Kuro, who clicked it open. There was a clanking of metal against metal, as Kuro pulled something out of the box and slipped it on. When he turned around, Sanji's eyes widened.

Kuro wielded black leather gloves, with each finger tipped by a long, steel blade. They looked like giant cat claws. Sanji's head throbbed. The bloodied man flickered in his mind, the cuts all over his body gushing out rivers of red. He remembered the spectre, pulling five long blades from the gash at his side.

"It was you…" said Sanji, his voice sounding hollow. "You're the one who tried to kill Zoro."

Kuro grinned, fixing his glasses with the base of his palm again, the five blades pointing well away from his face. The other three men around the room cackled like hyenas.

"Genious, isn't it?" purred Kuro. "Who would ever suspect poor old Koshiro to ever be the murderer?"

"Why did you do it?" Sanji demanded, his voice fiery. "And where's the real Koshiro?"

"Where do you think?" Kuro tapped the blades of his fingers together.

Sanji felt a fire boil in his gut.

"So you killed your own brother, and Zoro too. Except you didn't really finish the job. Zoro's still alive, at the hospital. Then… then why did you…"

Sanji head throbbed again. Another wall crumbled in his mind. He remembered the letter in the study. The paper work…

"You… you weren't really looking after Zoro," Sanji voiced his thoughts. "You were waiting for the inheritance money. That's why you said you were thinking of pulling the plug on him after he turned eighteen!"

Kuro narrowed his eyes. "How did you know about the inheritance?"

"You did all this for money?" Sanji exclaimed. "You killed your own brother, just for money?"

Kuro lunged forward, gripping Sanji's chair with his claws. The wood splintered and cracked as the metal pierced through them. Sanji gasped, relieved that the blades missed him.

"Don't talk like you know me," Kuro hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "Do you have any idea what my brother did?"

He pushed off the chair with his foot, yanking out his claws from the wood. Sanji leaned back on the chair, feeling it give a litte under his weight. Good. He'll use that when the time was right.

"My brother left Japan, left our family dojo, and flew all the way here to build his own," Kuro explained, his face contorted into a scowl. "He abandoned our dojo! The one our forefathers put their blood sweat and tears into building up. The dojo was never the same after he left. Our business started to run to the ground, and all he could do was patter around in this foreign land, training that useless brat of a swordsman."

Kuro began to pace the floor, his hands folded behind him, blades pinging off each other as he spoke.

"I flew all the way out here to appeal to him. I hoped that he would return home and restore our dojo to its former glory. But do you know what he said to me instead?"

Kuro laughed, it was strained and Sanji shuddered at the sound of it.

"He said he knew the dojo had been in trouble for a long time now. That was why he built a second dojo here. He jumped ship before it sank, the traitor. He had no right to call himself the first son."

"That's why you killed him?" said Sanji.

"I challenged him to a fight. A duel between brothers. Of course, he was miles stronger than I was, but I had to win. I had to make him see sense."

Sanji gawked. "You cheated."

"It was easy. Koshiro was to trusting of me as a brother. He should have known better. Never turn your back on an opponent," Kuro continued.

"I had to make him see the error of his ways. He was a traitor, a stain on the family name. I had only intended to off Koshiro. But, of course, that punk of a loyal dog of his had to be there. Luckily, Zoro didn't have his swords on him, and he was too shocked at his beloved sensei's death. So I took advantage of that, and sliced him up. Cut him into ribbons. Disposed of the two bodies and covered our tracks."

Kuro laughed, making Sanji's stomach churn. This guy was psychotic, past the point of logical understanding.

"Of course, two dead swordsmen weren't going to bring back the dojo. But imagine my surprise, when the police turn up here a few days later, mistaking me for my dead brother and telling me that Zoro had been found and was in hospital."

"They told me he was in a coma. I was planning to visit him once, then pull the cord when no-one was looking. But then, I learned about the inheritance. There was enough money in there to rebuild the dojo back home. I read up on the paper work, and by rights, if Zoro wasn't able to receive the money himself, it would be given to the next of kin, Koshiro."

Kuro grinned, looking smug. "So I stuck around, and waited patiently. Bid my time."

"That' a bit of flawed plan," Sanji groused. "What would you have done if Zoro woke up? You killed Koshiro in front of him, didn't you?"

"Of course I knew of that risk," said Kuro. "There's no way he'd be fooled that I was Koshiro. So, the only other option was to keep him under."

Sanji gulped. "What?"

"Subconscious hypnotism," answered Jango. "I'm quite practiced in the art of fooling the human mind. I knew Zoro's coma was trauma induced, so we did small, unnoticeable things to lengthen his sleep. Things like hearing Kuro's voice everyday, listening to music he doesn't like, and filling the room with scents he associated with sleep."

"You fuck," Sanji muttered. "You were forcing him to stay in his coma?"

Jango grinned. "Quite ingenious, really."

Sanji could only shake his head. No wonder Zoro's spectre was defying all laws of the spectral realm and trying to breach contact with someone. This Jango guy was dangerous. Now he understood how he'd forgotten all that information he found at the study. Jango literally did put a mental block on his memories.

"And now, to undo all of this knowledge you've just learnt," chirped Kuro. He nodded at the hypnotist, who produced a circular pendant on a string and dangled it before the two boys.

"Watch the circle, boys," said Jango. "I think it's best you forget you ever had anything to do with Zoro Roronoa and this dojo."

Sanji screwed his eyes shut. No. He was not giving up this evidence that easily. As Jango began to sway the pendant, Sanji kicked out and caught the man at the back of his knee.

"Ah!" cried Jango, dropping the pendant and falling to the ground. Luffy grunted, rocking forward on his chair, before he teetered and landed head first on the hypnotist's hands with a crack.

"Augh!" Jango screeched, shoving Luffy with his free hand and sitting up. The fingers on his right hand were bent and twisted in an awkward shape. "My hand!"

"Enough!" Kuro's voice pierced through the chaos. He loomed over Sanji, raising a clawed hand high about his head. "I'll just kill you here and now and be done with it!"

"No!" cried a girl's voice.

Sanji's heart froze, as he saw Nami run into the scene, wielding a metal pipe and launching at Kuro.

"Nami!" he cried, Luffy's muffled shouts accompanying him.

Kuro spun around, long claws swiped through the air. Nami yelped and fell backwards. The metal pipe in her hand split into five pieces. She gawked at the broken pipe.

"Run!" cried Sanji. "Get away from here!"

Luffy squirmed on the floor trying to right himself. Nami scrambled to her feet, but Buchi caught hold of her arm.

"Don't let her get away!" ordered Kuro, as Sham blocked the exit.

Kuro turned and kicked at Jango who was till on the floor. "Get up you, you pathetic fool."

He waltzed over to Nami, metal claws clinking against each other.

"A friend of yours, is she?" purred Kuro, grinning at Sanji and Luffy as he hovered a claw before her delicate face.

"Mmmmmfmmmfm!" Luffy struggled double time on the floor.

"Don't you dare, fucking touch her," hissed Sanji. How the hell did Nami get here, anyway?

Kuro laughed.

"You're too late, anyway," Nami interrupted him. "I called the cops. They should be here any minute now."

"Is that so?" said Kuro. "Then we better get a move on. It's a shame the cops aren't gonna make it in time to save three, unlucky teenagers from the fire…"

Nami squirmed against Buchi's grip. "Fire? What fire?"

Kuro merely grinned, and nodded at Buchi. "Tie her to that other guy's chair. Sham, get the room ready."

Sham chuckled with glee as he skipped to the other side of the room and pulled apart some floorboards. Sanji watched wide-eyed, as the scrawny man pulled out jerry can after jerry can, and began to bathe the room in a thick, yellow liquid.

Petrol saturated into the air, Luffy began to cough under his gag. Buchi secured Nami to Luffy's chair.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" Nami cried, pulling away from his grip. Something heavy fell from her jacket pocket, and she hastened to hide it under her leg.

"What's that?" growled Bucchi, spotting it in time. "Were you recording us, bitch?"

Nami yelped as he yanked at her hair, but she didn't budge.

"Leave her, you bastard!" Sanji hissed.

"Hand it over!" Bucchi let go of her hair and move to grab her shoulder. Through Nami's top, Sanji saw the red hand print glow and smoke began to rise from it. Bucchi touched it.

"Yargh!" he whipped his hand back. Something sparked at the contact, and when Buchi stilled, his hand was ablaze.

"Jesus!" cried Jango.

"Buchi!" Sham rushed to help him, but stopped as the fire spread across the plump man's arm and through the rest of his body.

With a curdling cry, he dropped to the flood and rolled out the flames, forgetting that the room was now coated in petrol. The whole floor lit up at once.

"Fools!" cried Kuro. "Idiots! Do I have to do everything myself?"

He strode to Nami, but Sanji acted quicker. In the chaos of the growing inferno, Sanji tilted his chair backwards and braced himself. With a splintering smash, his chair shattered and he slipped out of the ropes.

Dodging a flame, Sanji kicked out and set Kuro sprawling across the room. He ran to his friends, delivering two strong kicks to the chair Luffy was tied to.

"Get them!" he heard Kuro yell over the roaring fire. "Don't let them escape!"

"Split up! Get out of here!" Sanji instructed, as he pulled both Luffy and Nami to their feet. He grabbed the small Dictaphone that Nami was hiding, and crossed the room in the opposite direction, before the fire could engulf his pathway.

Smoke began to fill the dojo, and in the swivelling hot air, Sanji made out Kuro's form through the flames.

"Find them!" cried the man. "Kill them! We can't afford any mistakes now!"

"Kuro!" Sanji yelled over the flames.

The mad man spun around, his glasses glinting the fire. Sanji held up the Dictaphone_. _

_That's right, bastard. Come after me._

With a roar, Kuro came slashing through the flames, thundering after Sanji. His cat claws danced in the air. Sanji turned tail and ran, leaving the training room and scrambling upstairs.


	16. Chapter 16

The entire second story was already filled with smoke. Sanji coughed, holding his arm over his face and blinked back stinging tears. Fire flickered to his left, slowly eating away the corridor.

"I'm gonna kill you, you fucking brat!" Kuro yelled. The stairs began to creak and Sanji scrambled for the nearest room.

Shutting the door behind him, Sanji pulled as many objects as he could to bar the entrance. Chairs, a chest of drawers, boxes upon boxes. He turned to the room and startled, hitting his back against the drawers.

The bloodied man appeared outside of the window.

"Shit," Sanji cursed. "Please, not now."

The spectre moved, disappeared from view. With a jangle, the door handle began to shake.

"I know you're in there, you little shit!" Kuro's voice came muffled through the door.

Panting, Sanji ran to the window and tried to open it. It was locked.

"Shit, shit, shit," Sanji paced the room, trying to find something to break the glass with. Punching it was out of the question.

He gasped the when the door splintered. Five blades stuck out through the wood, before pulling out and stabbing through again, creating a bigger hole.

Sanji turned back to the window. He considered punching through, when a sharp pain pierced through his head, causing him to double over on the floor and grip his head. A metallic jingle resounded.

Something whispered in his ear.

_Look behind you._

"Wh-what?" Sanji glanced over his shoulder. The bloodied man crouched before him. With a scream, Sanji staggered backwards and hit the desk. Something rolled off the top and hit him on the head before clattering to the floor.

It was a long, black case. Heavy. Sanji looked up. The spectre was gone.

The door cracked. Kuro squeezed his face through the gap, laughing.

"You've got nowhere to run now!"

Sanji got up, clutching the case. Whatever was in it was hard. He turned to the window and shattered the glass with the case. A cold wind blew into the room, followed by smoke and Sanji saw fire flicker over the edge of the roof bellow.

The door cracked again. Sanji didn't look back. He crawled out of the window, the case still clutched in his hand. Glass crunched under his shoe, and he ripped the edges of his clothes and cut his cheek on the broken glass.

A gust threatened to blow him from the rooftop. Coughing on the bitter smoke, Sanji stayed low and crawled across the slate tiles of the roof. He clutched the case to his chest and resisted the urge to look down.

Voices yelled across the garden below.

"Oh my god, Sanji!"

He glanced down to see Nami and Luffy, both covered in soot, waving at him from the ground.

"Go! Get out of here!" He yelled back.

"We're not leaving you!" Luffy yelled back.

Bang!

Nami screamed, as she and Luffy got down on the ground.

"Hold it right there!" cried Jango. Sanji peered down to see the man holding a gun in his uninjured hand and pointing it at his friends.

_Shit._

He was about to leapt down the whole two-stories, when Luffy took a chance and got up, rock in hand, aiming straight for Jango's head. It missed but hit the gun from his hand.

"Son of a-!" Jango yelled, now nursing two broken hands.

"Run!" Sanji yelled again. "Go now!"

They hesitated, but when Jango moved towards them, they disappeared out of the garden.

The air became hot all of a sudden, and Sanji turned to see the fire had spread onto the roof.

"Shit!"

He crawled forward, then slipped on something wet and nearly tumbled from the rooftop. When he lifted his hand, it was covered in blood. Sanji squinted in the darkness. Crimson footprints stained the slate tiles of the roof, leading straight ahead and around the corner. Sanji swallowed. He had nowhere else to go.

Hastening his pace, Sanji turned the corner and saw a small set of rungs he could use to get up to the next level. The footprints ended there. He climbed up, the air getting cooler and the wind getting stronger.

The third tier was a lot smaller. Not much space, and nowhere else left to run. What was he supposed to do now?

Knocking resounded from under the tiles. Sanji yelped as five claws burst through the ceiling and scratched away the tiles. He scrambled backwards, right to edge of the roof. There was only one way down, and as he peered over the edge, the ground stretched further away from him.

"You fucker," said Kuro. Sanji turned back and watched him crawl out of the hole he'd made and onto the roof, hair frazzled, missing his glasses and skin covered in soot. "I'm gonna kill you."

"How could you torture someone like that?" Sanji yelled, trying to buy time again and figure another way out of this. "For a whole year! You forced Zoro to miss out a whole year of his life!"

"I did it for the dojo. For the family."

"That money belongs to Zoro!" Sanji backed up away from Kuro, but he was leaning the edge of the roof now. "You don't have any right taking it away from him!"

Kuro grinned, but his eyes were wide, gleaming like the fire that raged on below them.

"You sound just like my brother," said Kuro. He raised a hand, claws glinting in the moonlight. "And now, you'll die. Just like he did."

A jangling of metal. Sanji's jaw fell open as the bloodied man appeared behind Kuro, void eyes starring at the back of his head.

"Look behind you," whispered Sanji.

Kuro paused, brows knotting in confusion.

The wood groaned underneath them. Then the roof collapsed, swallowing Kuro into the fiery building. Sanji clung to edge of the tiles, gripping the black case tight, as he heard Kuro's scream fade into the inferno below.

Was he dead?

With a grunt, Sanji pushed himself up and crawled to the edge of the hole in the roof. The room below them was still partly intact, but surrounded by flames. Sanji squinted through the smoke.

Kuro lay sprawled on the wooden floor. For a moment, he didn't move. Then his limbs twitched, and he pushed himself up from the floor. He looked dazed, then he froze, his jaw dropping and his wide-eyes staring at something through the fire.

Sanji followed his glance. His heart stopped and every muscle in his body froze at what he saw. Through the flickering flames, the bloodied man emerged. This time, the crimson coating around him was ablaze, fire licking from his shoulder and out of his wounds that still gushed blood. Sanji could smell the sharp stench from where he was.

"Z-zoro?" Kuro's voice shook, he backed up across the floor. He could see him? "No, it can't be… You're dead. I killed you!"

The bloodied man moved. Step after agonizing step.

"S-stop!" Kuro pleaded. "Stay away!"

He backed up, scrambling to get away form Zoro, and into the fire behind him. His clothes ignited. Kuro screamed. In a fit of panic he writhed away from the flames, and ran deeper into the inferno of the burning dojo. Zoro's spectre followed him, disappearing under the smoke.

Sanji stared into the burning room below him, the crackling fire filling the silence. With a sigh, he slumped back on the roof, and stared at the dark sky above him.

Was it finally over?

Something crumbled, and Sanji looked up to see that the roof was still falling apart. The whole dojo was falling apart. He had to get out of there.

Carefully, Sanji got to his feet and peered over the edge of the roof. How exactly was he planning to get down?

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, and turned around.

Zoro stood before him. His dark eyes stared at Sanji, as his wounds squelched and gushed out blood. Sanji shuddered and took a step back, nearly loosing his balance and going over the edge. He glanced over the roof. That was a long way down.

Zoro's hand lashed out and grabbed the case Sanji was clutching.

"W-wait! Zoro, no!"

Without warning, the spectre hauled Sanji into the air and dropped him off the side of the roof. Sanji screamed. The ground spun faster towards him, until he landed face first onto the ground with a wet thud.

Sanji's eyes opened a crack. He couldn't feel his body. His vision was partly obstructed by grass and twigs, but as his eyes blurred into focus, Sanji saw a pair of red feet. His glance moved upwards. The bloodied man loomed over him, staring down with his void-like eyes piercing through his soul.

_I don't care anymore_, thought Sanji. _I've done my job. You can kill me now if you wan to._

The spectre blurred until he disappeared from view. Sanji felt something hard in his hand and tightened his grip on it. It grounded him to reality. Several people called his name in the distance. Everything inside and outside of him ached, and he could still feel the heat of the fire nearby. Despite all of that, his body chose now to be a good time for sleep, and he passed out with the feeling of the cold grass pressed against his cheek and the solid object gripped in his hand.

He came to again, lying on his back in the back of an ambulance. Sanji tried to glance around, but only winced and groaned as his muscles ached and his bones creaked.

"Ah! You're awake."

Sanji turned his head to see Nami sat opposite him, with a fleece blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She was covered in soot, bruises and scratches and her hair jutted out at odd angles, but she was still a sure sight for sore eyes.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Sanji had the words in his head but all he could get out was a groan. She giggled.

"You're lucky you only got away with a broken arm after falling three stories from the roof."

He glanced down at his right arm to find it bandaged tight and put in a sling.

"Luffy was the one that spotted you," added Nami.

Sanji cleared his throat before he spoke. "Where is he?"

"He's fine, don't worry. Sleeping off all the excitement in the other ambulance. He's not hurt."

Sanji sighed in relief and slouched back down in the ambulance bed. Through the back of the open doors, they could see the dojo, still burning and crumbling away in the fire.

"What are you doing here?" asked Sanji. "How did you find us?"

"While you were in Shank's gym, I was texting Luffy," she replied. "He told me everything, of course, the little bugger can't lie to save his life. So I was on my way to meet you there, when I saw you two get dragged into the back of a van. I followed them on my scooter."

Sanji shook his head. "You shouldn't have come. You nearly got killed."

"So did you two!" she exclaimed. "You never texted me after the séance. Why didn't you tell me what you were doing?"

He didn't answer. If he didn't like other people belittling him, he knew Nami hated it even more. She rolled her eyes, seeming to understand anyway, but decided not to press on it further.

"I gave the Dictaphone to the police," she said, changing the topic of conversation. "I also said we'd give witness accounts. They caught them all, you know. Even Kuro. They already wheeled him away and took him to the hospital."

Sanji frowned. "The hospital?"

Nami nodded. "They found him passed out in the training room. Pretty bad burns. It's a miracle he's still alive. Well, he probably won't think so when he finds out they're putting him in prison."

Sanji nodded as he remembered watching the man run deeper in to the fire to get away from Zoro. A silence fell between them then, as they watched the dojo burn to the ground outside the ambulance.

"The hand-mark's gone by the way," she said, pulling down a bit of her t-shirt to show Sanji.

Sure enough, her skin was back to being beautifully supple and unblemished. Sanji recalled the strange circumstance that lead to the start of the fire.

"You… you saw it, right?" said Sanji. "When that big guy touched your shoulder…"

Nami nodded. "His hand caught fire. I felt it too. Like a hot zap, and then the pain was gone. Creepy!"

She shuddered, but a smile still pulled on her face. "It kind of got me thinking… What if the spectre gave me that mark as a sort of… protection? I, um, sorry. Maybe I'm just being stupid."

Sanji shook his head. "I'm the one that can _see_ spectres. I don't think anything's stupid anymore."

He didn't bother telling her how he thought Zoro basically helped him evade Kuro and get down from the roof. He still wasn't sure that throwing him off was the only solution.

"I never told you about my sister, did I?" asked Nami.

Sanji blinked at the sudden change of topic. "Nojiko? You've spoken about her before."

"Did I ever tell you how she died?"

Sanji's stomach tightened. He shook his head. Nami wrapped the fleece blanket tighter around her shoulders, casting her glance at the fire outside.

"She was like you, you know," she began to explain. "She could _see_ things too. But… I think it was too much for her. She couldn't handle it. Me and mum tried so hard to be supportive. I told her everyday that I believed her, that she wasn't crazy, and that I loved her no matter what. But in the end, she just couldn't take it anymore…"

"It hurt," Nami continued. "I felt guilty for a long time after that. Like, I could've done something more for her. Maybe if I tried a little harder, or was there for her more, she wouldn't have wanted to end it herself…"

Sanji listened with a heavy heart. It all made sense now. This was why Nami always believed him without question, and why she was always eager to understand and to help him. When he realized that Nami wasn't going to say anymore, Sanji reached out and placed a hand on hers.

"Thank you," he said. "You've helped a lot."

Nami beamed at him. After that, they watched the fire in silence as it began to die down.

"By the way, what was in that case?" asked Nami.

Sanji frowned. "Case?"

Nami pointed to a long, black case propped up in the corner of the ambulance. "That one. You were holding onto it like a lifeline when we found you. The medics had a hard time trying to pry it from your hands while they took you in."

She got up and reached for the case, passing it over to Sanji.

"I don't know," he answered, searching for the zip in the dim light of the ambulance. "I kind of just used it to smash my way out of a window. Didn't really let go of it after that."

Sanji unzipped the top of the case and gasped. His eyes widened. Three sword hilts peeked out of the bag, one white, one red and one black.

"His swords," said Nami, breathing in awe.

She reached over and zipped it back up. "Better keep it hidden. If the police find out its weapons, they might confiscate it."

Sanji nodded, propping the sword case up at the end of his bed. He wondered if he came across it by coincidence, or if Zoro actually had something to do with it.

"Well, getting these will make up for the fact we basically burnt the guy's house down…" said Sanji, casting a glance at the non-existent dojo.

Nami laughed nervously. "Yeah… Woops... Do you think it worked then? Do you think Zoro'll wake up now?"

Sanji shrugged. "I don't know. He may wake up, or he may not. We have avenged his spirit after all. He might just decide that it's time to move on."

"I guess we'll find out once they take us to the hospital."

Sanji hummed in agreement, before settling back down in thebed. He could find out now, see if his nightmares were still plagued by the spectre. With a deep breath, Sanji's eyes folded shut and he descended into sleep quicker that he could ever remember doing.


	17. Chapter 17

They admitted Sanji into the hospital again. The doctors joked about how he may as well live there with the amount of times he's checked in over the past two weeks. Chopper, on the other hand, saw nothing funny about the situation. He wailed and lectured Sanji about the importance of keeping a healthy wellbeing and staying out of trouble, all the while setting a cast on his broken arm and seeing to his other injuries.

His old man was furious, and just like with Chopper, Sanji let Zeff vent out his anger and worry, nagging on until Sanji was sure his ears would bleed. But, in the end, Sanji uttered one word of apology and Zeff shut up, resorting to grumbling and muttering to himself.

After all the fussing died down, and he was finally left to rest, Sanji wasted no time and sank into the realms of a dreamless sleep. He slept for fifteen hours straight, and would've gladly kept sleeping if Zeff hadn't woken him up and insisted that he eat. With food in his belly, Zeff left him to catch more of that much needed sleep.

Sanji didn't think he missed sleep this much. In the depths of his mind, he felt his body slowly repairing every weary muscle and aching bone. He swore he'd never take sleep for granted ever again.

But the absence of the spectre had his brain reeling through thoughts. At least it meant that he was no longer haunted, but… What did it mean for Zoro's spectre? Was he awake, or did he finally move on?

Unable to wait anymore, Sanji got out of bed and walked to Zoro's room.

The young man was still in his bed, wired to the life support machine. Sanji frowned. He was exactly how Sanji had left him last. Why? Sanji didn't know if anything should've happened after the night at the dojo, but he expected there to be some change.

The door clicked open, and for a moment, Sanji's hackles rose. But it was only Chopper, tilting his head at Sanji as he entered.

"Ah," said the young doctor. "Did you come to pay your respects? Sorry, did you need more time?"

There was another doctor behind Chopper, and a few nurses stood outside the door. Dread seeped into the pit of Sanji's stomach.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Chopper blinked. "Um, well… With Kuro being sent to prison, and no sign of the real Koshiro, he doesn't really have any other relatives. It's been a year since he went under anyway, so we thought it was time."

Sanji swallowed. "You're switching off the machine?"

Chopper's face fell solemn. He'd never seen him look so serious. It was his doctor face.

"I didn't know you knew him," said Chopper. "We can give you more time if you want."

Sanji shook his head. "No, this is… Something's not right. Wake him up."

"What?"

"Wake him up," Sanji insisted. It couldn't end like this. Somehow, the thought of Zoro just going out like that didn't sit right with him. The spectre who clung so violently to life wouldn't go just like that. The guy himself, the strong swordsman, survived several cuts and being flung off the edge of a cliff! No, that couldn't be it for him.

"You have stuff you use to wake people up, right? Wake him up."

"Sanji… Zoro hasn't responded to stimuli in months…"

"I don't care," Sanji stood his ground. "Wake him up."

Chopper glanced at the other doctor, eyes welling up. He hated being so tough on Chopper, but Sanji just couldn't let this go. The other doctor sighed but nodded to his younger colleague.

"I guess there's nothing to loose by trying one last time," he said.

Sanji followed them as they wheeled Zoro off to the CT scanner. Chopper let Sanji stay in the observation room outside the scanner. He watched as they positioned Zoro until his head was in the middle of the large, white ring.

The screens in the observation room flickered and displayed a grey, squiggly image on Zoro's brain. There were lines and numbers across the screen. Sanji didn't understand what was going on, but he stayed silent, willing for a result.

"Beginning stimulation," said Chopper, holding up a small circle with rough edges. He rolled the ring across Zoro's open palm.

Sanji watched the brain scan. He wasn't sure what exactly he was looking for, but judging by the stony silence of the nurses in the room, they weren't seeing anything different either.

Chopper moved to Zoro's bare feet and rolled the ring repeatedly up and down the bottom of each foot.

_Come on come on come on_.

Sanji gnawed at his bottom lip.

"Nothing," one of the nurses sat in front of the screen called out.

Sanji took a deep breath. Was this really it?

He glanced up when Chopper moved up towards Zoro's head again. The little doctor ran the ring along the side of Zoro's neck.

"Wait," the nurse spoke again after a while. "I'm getting something."

Sanji straightened. "Really?"

He watched as she tweaked something on the screen. The image was still a grey blob to Sanji, but clearly she could see a difference.

"He's responding," she said, her voice thick with surprise.

"Impossible," the doctor in the scanning room with Chopper left to join them in the observation room. He leaned over the screen, nodding to Chopper. The little doctor continued to run the small circle along Zoro's neck.

"There," the nurse pointed to a spot on the grey blob on screen. It brightened significantly. "It's little, barely a sign. But because he hadn't been showing any response at all…"

"He's still in there," said the doctor.

Sanji left the room then. He'd done what he needed to, and a weight lifted from his chest to know that Zoro was going be fine. He laughed to himself. Why was he suddenly concerned for someone he'd barely met? For someone he hadn't technically met yet? Maybe he felt responsible. Maybe he just needed the closure, the reassurance that Zoro was indeed a living being and not a spectre.

"Sanji!"

The blonde paused to see Chopper running down the corridor towards him.

"They're going to put Zoro on recovery treatment," he said, with a smile. "They can't believe it. None of us can."

Sanji smiled. "Good. I hope he wakes up well."

"Wait. We'll need someone as a sort of, um, witness I guess to Zoro's treatment. I didn't know he was a friend of yours."

"Well… It's a little complicated."

Chopper laughed. "Will you vouch for him?"

Sanji glanced at the tiled floor beneath his feet. He guessed there was no getting away from the guy now.

"Sure," he replied. "I'm gonna head back and get some more sleep. Let me know how he's doing."

Chopper nodded. "I'll keep you updated," he said, running back to the CT scanner.

Just as it took Sanji days of sleep to get back to feeling well rested and fully awake, Zoro took weeks until he was awake and conscious.

The first week, Zoro was still in his coma, but his response time to stimuli improved with each passing day. Sanji visited him during these days, just for an hour or so each time, talking to him in the hopes that it would help speed up his recovery.

After Sanji was discharged, he spent most of his time at home, nursing his injured arm. He didn't visit the hospital much. It was this time that Chopper messaged him to say that Zoro spoke. The first words to leave his lips were 'Kuro'. Needless to say, that was taken into evidence and added to the big pile already stacked against Kuro.

Sanji didn't visit the hospital still. Chopper messaged him with constant updates, that Zoro was awake, he'd opened his eyes, he was responding to orders and showing awareness of his surroundings.

But Sanji had had enough of interacting with a Zoro that couldn't talk. He felt he needed to see Zoro at a fully conscious and responsive state, in order to chase away any lingering images of the bloodied man.

Soon August rolled into September, and the start of school loomed ever closer. Sanji decided to visit the hospital then. Chopper had messaged him recently about how staggeringly fast Zoro was recovering. Apparently, the guy could speak and respond to others now, although his voice was rough from a year of misuse.

Sanji stood outside Zoro's room. Through the glass, the guy still lay in bed, eyes closed. But the life support machine was no longer there. The only wires attached to Zoro was an IV tube and a monitor. Sanji took a deep breath and entered the room.

Zoro's eyelids fluttered open at the click of the door. He turned his head, casting a dazed look in Sanji's direction. His eyes were a dark brown, the colour of earth.

Sanji cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence. "Er, hi."

Zoro blinked. Great, was he still unresponsive?

"Um, how are you feeling?" asked Sanji, closing the door behind him.

"Uh," Zoro's voice came out strained and rough, as though his throat was completely dry. "My ass aches, and I'm itching to get out of bed, but my legs won't listen to my brain."

Sanji chuckled.

"Other than that, I guess I'm okay," Zoro added. He stared at Sanji, as though he were a puzzle that he was trying to mentally solve.

"Um… How are you?" Zoro asked, and Sanji could tell he did it more out of politeness than anything. His voice was thick with awkwardness.

Sanji had to laugh. This whole situation was surreal. What the fuck were they even doing anyway?

"I'm fine," he answered, lifting his casted arm in a sling. "You know, making do."

Another silence, but thankfully not too long. Zoro frowned and coughed to clear his throat.

"Sorry," he spoke, his voice not sounding any better. "Um, please don't take this the wrong way. The doctors said I might forget a few things after waking up. I mean, you look familiar, but… Argh, I can't…"

Zoro's face scrunched up so hard, Sanji thought he could see a vein pop out on his forehead.

Sanji tutted and rolled his eyes mockingly. "God, how could you forget? After everything you put me through."

Zoro looked panicked for a moment, before his brain registered that Sanji was joking and his face softened.

"Uh, yeah," he said. "Must have one of those unnoticeable faces."

Sanji narrowed his eyes. "Bastard! I came all the way out here to see you, and you treat me like this?"

Zoro laughed. It came out dry and raspy, but it broke the tension in the air.

"Seriuosly though," said Zoro. "Um… I really can't place you…"

"I'm Sanji."

"Sanji?" Zoro frowned again. Sanji could practically hear the gears turning in his brain.

"Don't think too hard," said the blonde. "You'll put yourself in another coma."

Zoro huffed. "Well, you're gonna need to help me out here then, jackass."

Sanji hesitated. He supposed that saying 'I'm the guy you haunted until I solved your murder and burned down you house in the process of doing so' wasn't really what Zoro wanted to hear.

"Um," Sanji decided to take a shot in the dark. "We knew each other when we were kids. Er, before you moved to Japan."

"Really?" Zoro's brows knotted tighter. "That… That was years ago. You remember me from then?"

Sanji snorted. "More like hard to forget. You were a pain in the ass, even back then."

Zoro made a smug expression. "Better hard to forget than, hard to remember."

Sanji scowled at the grin on his face. All the while, it was odd how easy and comfortably they fell into banter.

"Hey, can you eat yet?" Sanji asked out of the blue, catching Zoro out.

"Uh… They gave me this grey soup yesterday," Zoro stuck his tongue out. "It tasted like ash."

"Soup. Okay, good."

Sanji pulled a small small tub and a silver spoon out of a plastic bag he'd bought with him.

"I though they might start you off on liquidized food first."

He passed the tub and the spoon to Zoro, who made a face as he received them.

"Eugh, I've had nothing but soup for the past week," he said. "I think I'll turn into a bowl of soup if I don't have anything else."

"Ah, quit you bitching," said Sanji. "Just eat it already. You won't regret it, I promise."

Zoro gave him a look of uncertainty but popped the lid off the box anyway. Steam rose form the golden liquid, and Sanji noticed the quirk in the other guy's brow as he must've caught the scent. Zoro dipped his spoon into the soup and took a sip. His face brightened instantly.

"Fuck, that's good," he said, hastily slurping up more

Sanji turned away, hiding the grin that pulled on his lips. God, he was such a sucker for compliments.

"Where'd you get this?" asked Zoro.

"Made it myself."

"No way. You a cook or something?"

Sanji rolled his eyes. "More or less."

He let Zoro finish the soup, settling down in the seat opposite the bed.

"So, a whole year," said Sanji. "Bet you're wondering what's been happening since you've been asleep."

Zoro grunted. "It hasn't sunk in yet that it's been a year… The doctors brought in a radio the other day, but I threw it out. The music now is shit."

Sanji laughed. "Music's been shit for a long time."

Zoro shrugged, downing the rest of his soup. He placed the empty tub to the side.

"What else has happened?"

"Bet your dying to know who competed and won in the City Tournament this year," said Sanji.

Zoro's eyes widened, head snapping to where Sanji sat. The blonde grinned and pulled out a DVD case from the plastic bag.

"A friend of mine knows the guy who organizes it. He let me borrow the recordings of the matches."

Sanji got up and switched on the T.V in the room. He could practically feel the excitement radiating off the Zoro. After slotting the disk into a DVD player, he sat back down, remote in hand.

"You know about my tournaments?" asked Zoro.

Sanji made a noise. "Who doesn't? Zoro Roronoa, creator of the three sword style."

Zoro laughed uneasily, and rubbed the back of his head. Sanji noticed the skin across his cheeks getting darker.

"I'm not that famous, am I?"

"Well, you are after your fight with Mihawk."

Zoro groaned, running a hand over his face. "Now there's a memory I wouldn't mind forgetting…"

Sanji laughed and flicked to the menu screen of the DVD. The familiar logo spun on the screen again.

He liked being with Zoro. It was odd and a little surreal, considering the circumstances of how he'd come to know the guy. But Sanji liked him. Once they'd gotten over their awkward first introduction, it was like they really had known each other before hand. It was weird. But at the same time, Sanji couldn't complain. This was a friendship he could get used to.


	18. Epilogue

The wind picked up and rain began to splatter in through Sanji's open window. He pulled it shut and stared at the dark sky outside. It was only four in the afternoon. The weather was getting colder and wetter as autumn settled in. Shivering, he slipped on a grey, woolly jumper and lit a cigarette. He was getting better at lighting up with his left hand now.

There was something comforting in the feeling of smoking inside the warmth of his bedroom whilst the rain and the wind whipped around outside. He returned to his bookshelf, looking over the titles. He promised to bring Zoro some reading material when he next visited. There was only so much daytime TV a guy could take after all.

His deodorant toppled to the floor with a clang. Sanji paused, book in hand. The old man was helping out at in the kitchens downstairs, so he was home alone. The flat seemed a lot more quiet tonight that usual. Shaking off the goose bumps growing on his skin, Sanji picked up the bottle of deodorant from the floor and replaced it on his drawer.

The air grew colder around him. Taking a drag to warm himself up, Sanji picked up the miniature Ouija board he kept on his bedside table. He walked to the window, letting the dim light from outside illuminate the board in his hands.

Taking a deep breath, he placed the planchette in the centre of the board and cleared his mind.

"Mum?" he called out softly, his breath coming out in tendrils from his lips. "Are you there?"

He stared at the planchette, unmoving on the board. Something grasped his arm. Sanji startled and turned around. It was his mother. She'd never appeared to him fully before. It was always just a passing figure, or a presence that closed an opened doors and knocked objects to the floor. But she'd never fully appeared to him like she did now. He could even see the different shades of gold in her hair, and the soft wrinkles at the edge of her lips as she smiled.

The planchette scraped across the Ouija board in his hand. Sanji glanced down at the letters it spelled out.

I. T. S. A. G. I. F. T.

Sanji's brows scrunched. Then he felt the temperature even out again. Glancing up, he watched his mother's spectre drift towards his bedroom door. It swung open and she disappeared into the corridor.

"Mum?" Sanji ran after her, watching as her spectre crossed the living room and headed for the front door. She held her hand out towards the door handle, then faded away like mist in the morning sun.

Sanji stared at the empty spot. The air was warm again, the Ouija board and the planchette lifeless in his hands.

She was gone. He couldn't feel her presence in the flat anymore. That was her moving on. Sanji's chest felt light with relief, but his head spun in confusion. Why now? Why did she leave now? What happened?

He glanced down at the board, the planchette still sitting on the letter 'T'. She must've know what Sanji did, how he'd helped Zoro's spectre, how he was openly talking to spectres now.

That was all she wanted. His mother was always so accepting of his abilities, calling it a gift and all as if he was destined to do something great with it one day. Sanji closed his hand around the miniature Ouija board. Well, he wasn't sure about 'great', but at least it was a step in the right direction.

But then an empty feeling began to settle like snowfall in the pit of his stomach. His mother was gone. No longer haunting their home. A sob escaped Sanji's lips as the edges of his vision blurred.

* * *

><p>Sanji heard the front door shut, and Zeff's uneven footsteps as he ambled into the flat.<p>

"Can't bloody trust anyone with a simple flambéed dessert," muttered the old man.

Sanji stayed sat on his floor, wedged in a corner where his bed met his beside table. A cigarette burned away between his fingers, as he held his knees to his chest.

"Sanji?" Zeff's voice called out, but he didn't answer.

The thumping of the old man's footsteps approached his room, and Sanji had to blink against the light from the corridor that flooded in through his door when Zeff entered his room.

Sanji's cheeks had long dried, but his eyes were still red and puffy. That was something he knew he couldn't hide, as he looked over his bed at his father.

Zeff's face softened when he saw Sanji.

"What's wrong?" he asked, a little too gruff, but Sanji could see the worry in his eyes. He rounded Sanji's bed and sat on the mattress, stretching out his prosthetic leg. Zeff waited for Sanji's answer.

"Mum's gone," said Sanji, his voice sounding hollow. He stared at the wooden floor of his bedroom.

He could feel the old man's eyes boring into the side of his head. Then he sighed. That same sigh whenever Sanji brought up anything to do with spectres or anything. He expected the lecture, a nag, something. But instead, he felt Zeff's heavy hand clasped on his shoulder.

"Your mum's been gone for a while now, little eggplant," he said. Sanji glanced up at him. He wanted to protest, to say that that wasn't what meant at all. But when he saw the thin line of the old man's lips, all of the fight drained from him.

"I miss her…"

Zeff nodded. "Yeah. Not a day goes by where I don't miss her…"

He pulled out his pipe and began to fill it with tobacco. Sanji butted out his cigarette and lit up another one, passing his lighter to the old man.

Zeff grimaced and waved the lighter away. "Pass us your match box."

Sanji pocketed his lighter and rummaged in his drawer for the little matchbook he was given a while ago.

"Look at the pair of us," Zeff grumbled, lighting the tobacco in his pipe. "Sat in the dark, chain smoking… If your mum could see us now."

_Probably a good thing she isn't here anymore…_

"It could be worse," said Sanji. "We could be getting drunk at the same time."

Zeff laughed. "You think that's worse? I think that's better!"

He gave Sanji a playful kick. "I've a got an unopened bottle of sherry in the kitchen."

Sanji snorted, but picked himself up from the floor. "Yep. Now mum must be rolling in her grave."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. She would've been the first one to pour herself a glass!"

Sanji scowled. "Don't talk about my mother like that."

"What? That was one of her finest qualities. Face like an angel, but could drink any man under the table."

He guffawed, pulling out the bottle from the cupboard as he talked. Sanji sat at the table, listening to his old man ramble on and reminisce the earlier days. Zeff's eye sparkled with mirth. It could've been the alcohol, but watching the old man talk about his mother like she was never even gone filed that empty feeling in the pit of Sanji's stomach.

"Tell me more," he said, pouring out a second round of drinks before leaning back in his seat and listening to Zeff talking about the day he first met Sanji's mother.

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for reading, reviewing, commenting, favouring and following, everyone! :D I hope you all liked it :P


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